Roses Blue - Joni Mitchell

I think of tears, I think of rain on shingles

I think of rain, I think of roses blue

I think of Rose, my heart begins to tremble

To see the place she’s lately gotten to

Gotten to, gotten to

She’s gotten to mysterious devotions

She’s gotten to the zodiac and Zen

She’s gotten into tarot cards and potions

She’s laying her religion on her friends

On her friends, on her friends

Friends who come to ask her for their future

Friends who come to find they can’t be friends

Because of signs and seasons that don’t suit her

She’ll prophesy your death, she won’t say when

Won’t say when, won’t say when

When all the black cards come you cannot barter

No, when all your stars are stacked you cannot win

She’ll shake her head and treat you like a martyr

It is her blackest spell she puts you in

Puts you in, puts you in

In sorrow she can lure you where she wants you

Inside your own self-pity there you swim

In sinking down to drown her voice still haunts you

And only with your laughter can you win

Can you win, can you win

You win the lasting laurels with your laughter

It reaches like an arm before you sink

To win the solitary truth you’re after

You dare not ask the priestess how to think

How to think, how to think

I think of tears, I think of rain on shingles

I think of rain, I think of roses blue

I think of Rose, my heart begins to tremble

To see the place she’s lately gotten to

Gotten to, gotten to