"we speak in the store, i'm a sensitive bore. you seem markedly more, and i'm oozing surprise. but it's late in the day and you're well on your way. what was golden went gray and i'm suddenly shy. and the gatherin' floozies afford to be choosy and all sneezing darkly in the dimming divide. and i have read the right books to interpret your looks. you were knocking me down with the palm of your eye. this was unlike the story it was written to be. i was riding its back when it used to ride me, and we were galloping manic to the mouth of the source. we were swallowing panic in the face of its force. and i am blue. i am blue and unwell, made me bolt like a horse. now it's done, watch it go. you've changed some, water runs from the snow. am i so dear? do i run rare? and you've changed some. peach, plum, pear." joanna newsom, peach plum pear.
