Should the images remember hernAnd pull the threads of my expressionsnThe songs never touched by her scented skinsnIn regret of strong emotionsnnShe prides herself on desert skiesnFinds pleasures in the sunsets of her mindnDrinks the weeping tears of falling mennThe spirit with the breath of lifenn[Alto Saxophone solo: Gregg Rossetti]nnI knew before the spirit took hernI saw right through her azure eyesnThe warm vibrations that came in floodsnHer songs that rained in tearful linesnnThe sands of her...nThe dreams of her...nThe darkness of her...nThe spirit of her...