Sunday, April 27, 2008

there are places I remember in my life...

Well, let the poets cry themselves to sleep.
And all their tearful words will turn back into steam.
But me I'm a single cell, on a serpent's tongue.
There's a muddy field where a garden was,
And I'm glad you got away
But I'm still stuck out here
My clothes are soaking wet
From your brother's tears

No comments: