Working for money is such a drag
When I would rather be
Dropping lines
About the earth, the sky and stars
Instead I grind
Becoming too exhausted
Too clouded
To put pen to paper
To appreciate all the colors
Of this existence
Working for money is such a drag
When my soul is begging for more

in the quiet depths of night’s embrace,
a thousand stars reveal their place.
we’re but flickers in a boundless sky,
brief as breaths, and bright to die

The road is empty
in the middle of the night
The path is crooked With me on
the way Maybe someone will meet
A crescent moon is also curved
The clouds float away
I walk on the road of my mind
Head against the window grill.