I walked to California in concrete shoes,

Midwest boy with the nothing-certain blues.

 

She walked right past me with a halo made of lead,

I turned to look when I should have tied my shoes and fled,

 

She looked like spring and I looked like a thousand winters.

whenever I got near her my thoughts turned to splinters.

 

 

 

 

I’m not often sure who “she” is, but that’s an owl, I can tell you that much for certain.