perhaps it was because i espied
zeppelin and the eagles-beatles
in your words

perhaps it was the soft sadness
of half sung songs
and leftover musings

perhaps i saw
a bit of my soul
echoing in your work

for that and
all that is to come
I Thank You.

I rather write about this world than live in it
And id rather play music all day
and read and wander around in bookstores
and watch humans but not be one of them.

And up the hill we climbed
A singin' and a swingin'
But they switched off the stars
So we stumbled and grovelled.

Dishes to ashes
Lust to dust
And we all fall down.