Thistled Spring

An old love of mine to wed the worst man she finds.
A blossom that’s bloomed, in a house that’s a tomb, trapped in the rhododendron fumes.
Bit by the Spring, Hurt by the thing, Plagued by the memories that it brings.
No peace in the miles, there’s word of the coming of a child.
The broke can still break, oh, what time can take, somewhere in the rules lies the stakes.
Bit by the Spring, Hurt by the thing, Plagued by the memories that it brings.
Bride to be, my only friend, is leaving me, in a Spring with no end.
Bride to be, my only friend.