We are the fallen bereft of life but filled with music we sing with a speeding bullet’s zing our lyrics the crack of splintered bone a symphony written for us alone in the land where all are supposed to be free so much then for liberty
Dying sky painted beautiful the Gods would weep if indeed there were Gods to see the molten tips of living trees and mountains pink reflected in a coral sea what a mistake to blink and miss a glorious sunset such as this
Marilyn's easel a Madonna displayed celluloid goddess of the temple of the silver screen we worshipped ignoring the cracks and the obvious fact that the woman behind the art was slipping slowly dripping off the canvas now she is no more we still adore the puddle on the floor
Our connection is a pale moon above and stars that shine they are yours as much as ever they were mine we feel the grey of falling rain the warmth of joy and the chill of pain we live and we love, we laugh and die under a yellow sun and the same blue sky