Emotional firerides, snow filled glyphs,
Plantationed homes, bars to the stove, no lipstick to thy lips!
Pale faces creep Townshend banjo's. Stature has no wayward end! Death can be friend or foe, moles can be packrats where bookbagged books are quite old!!!
Violinic apathy, tunes are all grasping me, April, April come around thine deathly bend! Whom shall make it? When these doors swing to pickaways end...
Crushed dispair, **** city blues to stretch ones hair, art thou fair? Danzel of maidens,seeker of fair trade-ins,lovers love, a sin for thine sin!!
Where shalt I begin?
When shall this end?
Folk homestead, show me your Colorado's scenes,where paintings are reality, and fantasies are dream's!!!
