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 shes lately gotten to
Gotten to, gotten to
Shes gotten to mysterious devotions
Shes gotten to the zodiac and zen
Shes gotten into tarot cards and potions
Shes 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 cant be friends
Because of signs and seasons that dont suit her
Shell prophesy your death, she wont say when
Wont say when, wont say when
When all the black cards come you cannot barter
No, when all your stars are stacked you cannot win
Shell shake her head and treat you like a martyr