Let me know - if I'm equipped - to write with special penmanship
for the friend I made upon this day; with all she makes so glad and gray
So I talked to the girl with yellow hair, like flames that fly and cause a flare
The Girl on Fire she is to me slow-burning like dry willow tree
But it brings to me a great elation for all this woman's scintillation
Like hell but pure upon her scalp, and it's easier to see it from here
From yellow flames I have to scare, let fire drip down on her breast
Her womanly chest I rest myself, and I romp inside a sacred friend -
she looks at me with eyes quite dim, and as she dreams she burns my limbs
As I reached for that hair--
That glowing, growing, flaming, playing, golden, smoldered
beauty of this woman I here call a friend
From the girl I used to peer
So I talked to the girl with yellow hair
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