You are owned by the funny devil
Who picks all the pretty flowers passing by
And you're owned by the curse of a mother
Who lost her child
You're owned by the poet's verses
And the empty lines
You're owned by needs and confusion
You're sitting in a white room
Oh, but I'm only owned by the red night
Falling on the roof of this town
And owned by your moody mornings
From a flat, broken bed on the way
To the rolling stars
So you're owned by that funny devil
Who picks all the pretty flowers passing by
And you're owned by the curse of a mother
Who lost her child
Oh, but I'm only owned by the red night
Falling on the roofs of this town
And owned by your moody mornings
From a flat, broken bed on the way
To the rolling stars
