Its a fragile balancing act, to stay on track, with all these attractions detracting from my distractions impact, on the blurring depictions of pictures burned in fictions past.

My guitar, its missing a string, that randomly plings while i'm sleeping, and so I'll wake, and play, until we weaken back to sleep.

It was the candy kids who danced regardless of the weather, and i am better to have watched them die up there, so very close to the sky.

I wrote a note in coke that spoke to my morning self, but blew it, never knew of it, and moved right through it unscathed.

I see circles defined by squares in cyphers deciphered from tongues gone silent, patiently waiting for the next man to hear.

We bantered of finer flings, as we toasted with our moistened teeth, but had seen better rings on stronger trees, swaying in the breeze of the oncoming traffic.

When the leaves are green, then the birds will sing,
Each note carried upon a sunlit ray;
My heart cannot bear awaiting this scene.

New, vibrant color quells cold, bitter sting,
And rings the chime for a calm and softer day,
When the leaves are green, then the birds will sing.

A winter tale ends well, blue sky it'll bring,
And rare flowers that chase all care away;
My heart cannot bear awaiting this scene.

Robins in trees weave nests of withe and string
As the beat of their soft wings seem to say,
When the leaves are green, then the birds will sing.

Tulips dance in a tepid breeze in spring,
Crimson petals spreading, though not to stay;
My heart cannot bear awaiting this scene.

Bid adieu to steel-gray skies forbidding
Nature's gifts and tranquility,  in May-
When the leaves are green, then the birds will sing;
My heart cannot bear awaiting this scene.