Will you come pick plums with me? Up on that dirt road. The one by Wolfgang Street. If we trip and we fall down the steep hillside, will you laugh with me? If we lose our way in the deep underbrush, will you trust me? Will you brazenly sing that sad song in that voice course and rough? Will you tell me her secrets, the ones Amy said? Will you let me lay my head on your thigh as we rest for a while? Will you be my plum tree? The one I wanted to reach all along
