Comfy and sung
Full of warmth
The only place I want to be
After a day of walking 'round and 'round
It's my own little fort

Every poet needs poetic scenery
It can be anywhere, really
Depends on your personality
But I prefer
To write under the sagging branches of a
willow tree
In a field full of
wildflowers

the color red
is the symbol of someone who had bled

People ask me "How do you do that, Mister?"
"It's natural" I say
"No really, how?" They pester me
"It's natural." I say, yet again and again
"Well, that's amazing, Mister" They say, then they go along and play