Its as though i bang the banjo to an unknown flow, rocking my head, and shaking my hands, singing to the dead, and serenading the land.

I stand tearfully strong in long winded wailing to the scorn, and with each tear, i'm born, anew.

Dear Earth, i know you well, i know what you promote, and i know what sells, and if this is hell, then i am faring well, and farewell will be felt in my tells of seashells singing from a cell.