She lives her life like a stained glass vignette. In a country cottage, pouring red from a crystal carafe. Legs crossed on a wicker patio chair, looking out at fields of green stretching from doorstep to hilltop. We know each other, still she says we’ve never met. As her life passes by. Open the fence gate, my lady. Invite me in. Open your cotton sleeved arms, my lady. Invite me in. So I can open your heart... So I can open your heart...
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