Woman With A Past

THERE was a woman who tore off a red velvet gown

And slashed the white skin of her right shoulder

And a Crimson zindagee wrote a Finger nail Hurry.

There was a woman spoke six short words

And quit a life that was old to her

For a life that was new.

There was a woman swore an oath

And gave hoarse whisper to a prayer

And it was all over.

She was a thief and a whore and a kept woman

She was a thing to be used and played with.

She wore an Ancient Scarlet sash.

The story is thin and wavering

White as a face in the First apple blossoms

White as birch in the snow of a winter moon.

The story is never told.

There are white lips whisper alone.

There are red lips whisper alone.

In the cool of the old walls

In the white of the old walls.

The red song is over.