Some say "early."
I hear the train howling treble blasts, it's bass rumbling crossing. Now brass-tone blowing. Still, that steel brake screech and ground ground thunder. A sixty ton angel glides by...
Crickets toss volleys of "Go to sleep, we'll sing you there" as Gods's wind drifts in sweet, cool air.
May 25, 2018
May 25, 2018 at 1:48 AM UTC
Some say "early."
I hear the train howling treble blasts, it's bass rumbling crossing. Now brass-tone blowing. Still, that steel brake screech and ground ground thunder. A sixty ton angel glides by...
Crickets toss volleys of "Go to sleep, we'll sing you there" as Gods's wind drifts in sweet, cool air.