Smoker's Pole Poem by Pierre Rausch

That she saw her daily, alive and well
Sing sometimes in a faraway voice
Having made it to the dancefloor
Calling out the first thing that came to mind
At least not so anyone could hear
There was no hint on her face
That her lips were touching the dust
Yes, she felt silent again
She'd spent a new not of admiration
You want to go to the second floor
She had a sudden pressing of leaving
Rather than fixing matters between you
At least not so anyone could hear
There was no hint on her face
That her lips were touching the dust
Yes, she felt silent again
The house was quiet and darker
And the dust notes hung motionless
The lovely voice she'd had as a girl
That was forthcoming from her consort
The house was quiet and darker
And the dust notes hung motionless
The lovely voice she'd had as a girl
That was forthcoming from her consort
It was a smooth run down the motorway
Oh now, isn't that the fellow across the street
It wasn't merely the fact of being spoken
And a feeling of great hardship on her voice