dreaming a pie slice of life with you, I'll happily plagiarize
inside the stinging bee's nest, nobody dares find it
secret, secret, oh little secret tune
sing the truth on the flute in the willow
who could ever guess who it really is, but you.

in came scythes to sheave into bundles, every chance mocked
and death enjoys gawking at our shock
we could have, so easily taken from the train there, the bus over
together we could have done it

the bus rode over a **** and it continued to the wood's end
it's there where your fire's burning huge beacons
it's some work still to find you, hiding in that forest
we could have, we could have.

you're not embarrassed by my writing, really
it is me, my presence you can't seem to stand
off I go to some quiet spot where you'll find me, if you care
but I appear to do more harm to you than ever and wonder if it's only me.

have one VERY dry and coughing throat here

realy miss freedom

here, feel this :o

I'm so taunting time, just to see........argh!

poet missing brilliance

to be open to woken joy!




(domed) structure collapsing.