The night is blank, like venison.
John Wesley Harding held my hand through the river.
The end is nigh.
Tomorrow things will be different, things will change.
I have so much passion, it's a curse.
I'm tired of tomorrows. I'm tired of being a fool.
I don't want to be a walking shadow.
I was born a walking shadow, so I was doomed from the start.

I find myself in love with everything and nothing but confusion  to show for it.
I see myself and I am a small patch of existence. I question myself.
Why do I care about something so insignificant?
Why do I love her and hate him. I once despised strong emotion, but now I've learned to be rude and decisive.
Now, for the sake of heart, I must forget what I've learned.

I was born yesterday, it's a fact.
Running down the mountain is the green of the Earth, the metaphor of life. Pouring out itself is the wind, singing softly an echo of eternity. Rising from the sky a great pillar, and a message therein embedded presupposed perpetual motion.

There is good, and there is evil. There is life and there is death. There is creation and there is destruction.
Destruction has so much power, for everything is in constant decay, and yet, creation wins. Though people die, life wins in the end. Sure, it's optimistic, but I don't care!

I see you now...

Hair over your beautiful face, and you tell me,
without saying a word... you tell me....