The faceless child of our young love lives in your treehouse of dreams.
Our love lives in a treehouse; crooked, wood warped beneath her delicate toes.
I watch her from the luscious lawn of your kisses, roses, forlorn. I watch her as she tea-parties with teddies and toads.
Our love lives in your imagined treehouse. Hiding.
Our love lives in a treehouse; crooked, wood warped beneath her delicate toes.
I watch her from the luscious lawn of your kisses, roses, forlorn. I watch her as she tea-parties with teddies and toads.
Our love lives in your imagined treehouse. Hiding.
