Arianne is silly music
That my father used to whistle
She's the new leaf on a fire
That I had given up last winter
And what writers have to feel like
When they suddenly discover they've been read
Arianne is Momma's crystal bread
That's nearly finished baking
She's a rainbow in a puddle
And the happiest birthday
She's a goin' out on Friday
And a comin' back on Monday with a tan
Arianne is made of feelings
So I milk her of her kisses
And I swallow up her breathing
And I taste her where she love me
And I'm filled to overflowing
But there's always room for more Arianne
Arianne is Momma's crystal bread
That's nearly finished baking
She's a rainbow in a puddle
And the happiest birthday
She's a goin' out on Friday
And a comin' back on Monday with a tan
Arianne is made of feelings
So I milk her of her kisses
And I swallow up her breathing
And I taste her where she love me
And I'm filled to overflowing
But there's always room for more Arianne
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