Lyrics:

Never more than seven Aprils are seducted at a time
The least of these removed, reluctantly subdued
That I might find rosewater in my cup
But don't let up, and don't let on

Mountains that are lime green pouring over furrows in the brow
Occasional response, yet what I really want is losing
What I've kep concealed in here
Oh, it's not mine, but don't let on

It it makes a better letter why not write it at the fair
You tell her what you got, the dismissed the thought of real
You care to see, her nest awaits whatever comes
But don't let on