Butterfly Nostalgia: Young Gambler's Hint of Spring

Young Gambler’s Hint of Spring

I’m so tired of seeing you like a watch that needs a chain
I’m sick of all these fireworks that blossom in my brain
Eyes down the vacuum of shadowed crevices you bare
Yeah, I stare

Always rising up so gradually, like a bubble in honey jar
Fall into my Sunday best - the engine’s warming up the car
The snow falls so silent, before the roaring of the bells
And my heart swells

Preacher preaches lullabies about love and hate and sin
Says I shouldn’t yearn for you till I’ve bound you with a ring
A ring of gold like a golden cow with a diamond mined by slaves
The thought does scathe
Oh, the thought does scathe my soul…

Well luck ain’t a lady – let the devil think twice
Before ya-tell me who’s been naughty or nice
And luck ain’t a lady but I’ll pay the price…
With a loaded heart, blowing Rudolph’s dice

Aunt Faye’s serving lunch on an old checker’d tablecloth
The spoon stands straight in the ice tea but is it sweet enough?
Frost covers the window, across the table I look at you
And I freeze too

The boys all rot around the game in the so-called living room
Kitchen turns into a mighty place to catch a fix of gloom
And some subjects you just surf by before they asks you why
Or you step outside

(Bridge)
Met you on the frozen hill at the edge of the twilights
Your brothers are all heading out – your sister has frostbite
All the sand has almost fallen as they slowly build the pyre…
But still you seem to radiate, like a ghost within the mire
Like Saint Elmo’s fire

Yasmin, your Rosetta Stone, I bare it not within
As my illiterate fingers caress the brail upon your skin
The ground is frozen but the stars are bright - under a blanket in the farm
I’ll keep you warm
I’ll keep… you warm…

Though luck ain’t a lady – let the devil think twice
Before ya-tell me who’s been naughty or nice
And luck ain’t a lady but I’ll pay the price…
With a loaded heart, rolling Rudolph’s dice