I am definitely not a saint
But he said I was a gift
Mark Rothko, he could paint
My dad gave him a lift

I saw him at George Mason
Been to Asbury Park
To find the light, he said
You have to go through dark

My letter to her was honest
And too much information
Seattle in the twilight
My soul in elevation

Dearest Emily
I try to break on through
Wild Nights in Kyoto
Wild Nights with you

              Adieu.