to live in big houses is to have
armored windows
which look toward a small world
but stay calm
my small house is totally quiet
and everything it's a large window
It is a whole world

nobody knows how to appreciate
my anonymous fulfillments
and you do not know my name
but you managed to smile with me

this is such an appreciation
and such a fulfillment
as the glory of a entire world
full of kings

no bells or drums resound when I leave
to my daily conflagration
I'm not acclaimed by the crowd
when I get back from her toil
but I know
to suffer to the whole every victory
and rejoice forever the latter defeat

I had to get
till the doom of the gloom
to realize at last
that nothing remains of us

just
a invincible
smile

I can't see in this smoke filled room
Only shadows
Lifeless forms, standing like wallflowers
It's quite
I stare and they stare back
I'm in a portrait painted in smoke and dust.
Surrounded by lifeless people
It's in my head.
Formed by my imagination
I sit and wait
Until the smoke clears
The dust is gone

I've waited for the knock on the door.
I could hear the sound of footsteps coming down the hall.
I'm awakened  in the night by the sound of screams
They're coming from the next room.
Hollering my name.
I feel its presence getting closer.
My cries cannot be heard over its sound.
It's ruthless in pursuing me.
Like an officer pursuing a criminal.
My determination weakens.
I give in to its capture.
embracing eternity.
Forever singing, fearing no more.

Frisbeetarianism is the belief that when you die, your soul goes up on the roof and gets stuck.

Quoted by George Carlin comedian

My window is open and all I can hear are those birds.
Chirping, chirping away.
It never stops.
I find myself mimicking their sounds.
Like a broken record, stuck in my head.
I turn the window fan on to drown out their noise.
I still hear them, chirping.
They are stuck in my head.
I close the window of my smoke filled room.
Puffing another cigarette in quite.
Until I open the window again,
I can't get them out of my head.
So, I smoke and the fan drowns out their noise.
My room is clear of smoke, but filled with birds.

Fifty years ago this week
Sgt. Pepper he began to speak
Hidden deep just like a motley fool
Inside four boys from Liverpool

It took four lads as inspiration
to bring hope to a crying nation
After November's assassination
They grabbed us...we held on

John, Paul, George and Ringo
on Ed's Sunday Show
We sat back and watched them go
They grabbed us...we held on

They came and held the hand
Of a still in mourning land
A little skiffle band
They grabbed us...we held on

We were brought back from the dark side
We were on a rock and roll ride
With four young lads from Mersey Side
They grabbed us...we held on

They grabbed our hearts and souls
They expanded musics goals
They all had different roles
they grabbed us...we held on

In times...things were changing
The band was re-arranging
No more tours were staging
They grabbed us...we held on

Soon, they all went on their way
McCartney sang "Another Day"
John, he had a lot to say
George and Ringo...just played on

John was shot at decades start
It shocked the world and broke apart
Those who held him in our heart
The Beatles were no more

George died too, all things must pass
He always had a silent class
The parts aren't greater than the mass
The Beatles were no more

Is there anyone out in the land
Who will come and take us by the hand
I hope that you will understand
They grabbed us...we held on

Julia
I Should Have Known Better

I Want to Tell You
You've Really Got a Hold On Me

If I Needed Someone
Baby It's You

Come Together
Because
Oh! Darling
All You Need Is Love