Turquoise, turquoise, orange.

Saint Louis, at your best you're a city that is yet to be explored.
Our landscapes and affections are missing.

My first turquoise, this I know well, drove heading south.
My second turquoise is eating from your lap, I can see (but I am behind the lens)
Now, orange is full-bodied with love embodied and a glass of tears and whatever profanity you drown your Vinegar Eyes in.
It's an outpour that has "Inspiring ivy-eyes and candles" written everywhere.

"Love", "an outburst awaits for us".
Saint Louis is hiding its head with a veil,
Your eyes are covered in metallic shells this time, lime lays ahead.