I want to be young, to be many. I want to surround the audience, the rest of mine, the overloaded inside my empty hollow. The fear is shallow, hollowed out in being. When I let go of my sadness for them all, more becomes less. And when time feels carved, my sorrow is open as I tremble. When I surrender in grieve toward. Even one and two are three, if one of the two is not alone, it still has more to go. Life is shown in the leaves, the **** grows on the trees... curving my dreams, with good and evil, I talk steadily in the morning, when they stray down the seven stars below heaven.