Cheshire Cat

You flew in on a silver steed, a feather in your hat

You told me I was not who I was supposed to be and left it at that

And I'm fraying at the edges and asking you to lay the cards down flat

And you're old enough to realize when fiction isn't fact

Tell me why

Before my bags are packed

I have threaded my own needle, stitched myself a web

And I broke my only promise that I'd never write a song for you again

We listen to the radio, I'm crimson, you are indigo, and then

If you hear the howling of a wolf, it's really just my heart

Saying hear me