Colors are all I see.
I think of him and cannot close my eyes
without seeing his outstanding smile.
I hear his infectious laugh in the wind.
The jokes he made were always so funny...
I see his brightness in the Sun out my window.
The moon reminds me of him as well.
All of the colors in the world just
remind me of him and his beauty.
His life brought joy to those around him.
I miss him already.
I miss his laid back attitude.
I miss his goofy smile.
I miss his kind eyes.
I really miss his sarcasm.
Even though I did not know his favorite color,
I know that I see him in ALL of the colors
that exist in this world.

Even the ones I cannot see.
I miss you Juan, rest in peace.

WHEN I HEARD ABOUT HIM MY STOMACH DROPPED AND MY TEARS STARTED TO FLOW AND I CLENCHED MY STOMACH AND REALIZED THAT LAST YEAR THAT COULD'VE BEEN ME.

I just want
To start fresh
Is that too much?

I took a break behind the bar
Just resting on a beat up car
Strumming on my old guitar
And she came walking by

Playing music in the night
With only me in the moonlight
I saw her moving to my right
The third time she came by

I play music to the air
It's nice that no ones there
It's not something that I share
It's for me, the moon, the stars

she sat down with out a sound
she sat cross legged on the ground
there was no one else around
I now played my song for one

I watched her as she closed her eyes
beneath the moon and starry sky
I wonder if she'd realized
my singing now was done

she came out to hear me play
almost every single day
this was the first time she did stay
and I made sure that she heard

the songs I sang in broken parts
were songs of love and broken hearts
but to love, you must fall to start
and that was in my words

she never said a thing to me
she'd come on out where I could see
and I give a show for free
but it never grew from there

time has passed and I still play
the girl has grown and gone away
I sometimes wonder where she is today
and if she wonders...

Matador, **** the beast
that run amok inside your psyche;
the urge to throw in the towel
then becomes natural.

God, do you care?

Your kids are killing each other.

Not by the autographs they sign
not by the clothes worn fine
yet to them with deeds divine
true are these heroes as distant star shine
…
young be a boy helping a blind man
old be a lady lending water in a can
smart be a nurse cleaning a bed pan
even a dog for its dying master ran

rude maybe a teacher yet for the poor a fees he give
hard might be a butcher yet a meat free for poor to live
cruel can be a soilder yet blood he doth give
a hunter even adopts animal kids to live

not by the image heroes they are
not by courage heroes they are
yet by acts of love none see
heroes of time tough little their deeds be