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Why Stars Have To Hide
Missy, my sweet November Nova
You wrote the tune in your California eyes
I was stolen on the outskirts of your heart
with a burning in my thoughts, and my wet candle in Nirvana
Ah, you be theatrical in the parkway slumbers of Spring
You tried to call me out but I was ashamed
They've got me wearing trenchcoats again
and adding gloss to my cover sheet skin
I could never come close to understanding the ones not in hiding
I have no soul anymore but the one in memory
Bring me my food...and bring me my water
Such a wonderful daughter!!
