) What the **** are you calling REALITY ? (


~|~

my time being born

On the wings of sorrow

Ride the waves

Far above these forms which haunt me

//

Child , I am bound

For the Gentle Valley

I will raise for you swert acres of Golden Corn

To bear your hunger less painfully

//

Child , beware

Of all the Tides of Reason

They will use your love of livin as the means

To drive you from the Seasons

//

Child , take heed

And stay with all Good Souls a friended

Ain't a thing I do not Understand

But the time for THAT ..... had Ended

//

My time being born

On the wings of sorrow

Ride the waves
Ride the waves
Ride the waves