| Last night my kisses were banked in black hair |
| And in my bed, my lover, her hair was midnight black |
| And all her mystery dwelled within her black hair |
| And her black hair framed a happy heart-shaped face |
| And heavy-hooded eyes inside her black hair |
| Shined at me from the depths of her hair of deepest black |
| While my fingers pushed into her straight black hair |
| Pulling her black hair back from her happy heart-shaped face |
| To kiss her milk-white throat, a dark curtain of black hair |
| Smothered me, my lover with her beautiful black hair |
| The smell of it is heavy. it is charged with life |
| On my fingers the smell of her deep black hair |
| Full of all my whispered words, her black hair |
| And wet with tears and good-byes, her hair of deepest black |
| All my tears cried against her milk-white throat |
| Hidden behind the curtain of her beautiful black hair |
| As deep as ink and black, black as the deepest sea |
| The smell of her black hair upon my pillow |
| Where her head and all it’s black hair did rest |
| Today she took a train to the west |
| Today she took a train to the west |
| Today she took a train to the west |