brush work. spray-painted by the sun, birds sing and dance. records of migration are embedded on brick - a single sprig offering testament throughout the seasons that they were here. the sprig is longer, reaching nearly to my bathroom window. one day it will be a branch. the shadows will sit on it again. they will dance, they will sing. ...
He's sweating I'm licking my thumb Sucking on my fingers I can Tell if I shut my eyes It'll be all over And class'll shut down, Everyone at home studying But us on the desk on the table on The floor
This ain't a mother****in' Drive-by take Your Finger off the Trigger
Me my Four candles & Rumours Me my Four Tears Six Years
If I had your Address I'd Send it to You So you Could reunite Rewrite the World Explore That long forgotten Vault, that Catacomb-forever-sealed Discover what - What! Blighted distortion maimed You so? Long ago That you Portray Such equanimity, As if The return of a Murdered Child would Bring only ...
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