Help break this need to be so busy Pursuing self-worth in such a tizzy To know the value of my birth To be secure in my own worth To help myself To do my best To stop To sleep To truly rest
The bush burns brightly in the freshly laid snow When the light of the sun sets it aglow Like an apple of gold in a silver picture The scene It breathes the proverbial scripture
The face that lives inside the blot is content today not to stir the *** To disturb the peace is to break the lease with the only friend the man has got
If he has the blues for more than a day He bellies up to the bar to chase them away Soaks up the ***** Goes home to snooze And when he wakes there’s hell to pay
The stains from my coffee dropped onto the paper Then, randomly folded into deliberate pleats Revealed to me the nature of it’s purpose The place where the clouds of imagination can meet