Toria Amos - Don't Make Me Come To Vegas
   and the Jacaranda tree
   is telling me
   it's not over yet,
   just by the way She bends
   "if you come breezin' through"
   you said "I'll know that it's you
   by the taste on my lips,
   Bet on the desert's kiss"
    I could slip through your net
   "over my dead body"