All my secrets, that I share with other people and the ones that are all my own.
Some times they resolve themselves, every once in a while they send me roses,
and now and then they run away, because they never intended or empathized.
My letters get lost in the mail and i am left to answer my own questions.
All these things happen to everyone I know, to couples and singles alike.
By I can imagine that you can imagine that something only I know. To you it is unclear and to me it's crystal but I spoke the unspoken alone.
Pounding on that darned Rickie Evans's door this early morn at half past four. That nut was racketing and was asking for a lick. I told him he better get quiet or else real quick. Then I stomped back bear footed across the hall I figured id'e feed thee old **** as I slammed me old door. But I sadly discovered that thee **** would eat no more so I figure i'll have me a smoke for thee old timers wake.
Cantering to my prize with no time to devise I cater queerly to confabulate
courageous as concerning consonantly discerning the real cognitive carnation contrives to cognitive dissonance close at hands the behavioral disorder of cans.
If I had a penny for every sad person that I greet.
If I had a match for all the singles that I meet.
If I had the time for all the tired people on the street.
If I had the food for the people that don't eat.
If I had the courage to make them wait till you we're seated.
If only I had known you before you we're depleted.
If only I knew why you seem so defeated.
If only I could have stopped before you became heated.
If only love was enough to conquer the hate.
If only we had known we we're running late.
If only we weren't so determined in fate.
If only they hadn't cut themselves on the gate.
If only we try every day that we live.
If only we would give all that is good to give.
If only we didn't have to forgive.
If we only have the kindness not to misgive.
The vague chateau sits atop the thoughtful house draped in the vine of disappointment which sits by the river side waiting promptly for it's appointment.
Up and down and all around the merry go round, in bleary tune town.
Great fatigue that turn's into lust, then the headache that simply "must".
Delight of the sugar fairy, think a thought that's way to scary and chase it away with a hail Mary, then you're back on the nightmary go round in what is now weary tune town.
My mommy has a black gun that she keeps in her black bag.
she has it to protect us she tells us with a drag.
Some times she takes it off and puts it on a high shelf.
A place where a little person can't reach it a person like my self.
Like Dorthy the only time she leaves it alone is when shes taking her bath.
And sometimes I think "maybe i'll take it" while she thinks that i'm doing my math.
I'll introduce it to my temple and then i'll release it's wrath.