About Me
When the wind was fresh
On the hills
And the stars were new in the sky
And a lark was heard in the still
When the spring is cold
Where do robins go?
June July and August said
"Its probably hard to plan ahead"
February April said
When it rains it pours...
Coming from the underground
To a scene that is minus 10 degrees
Kinda like an apple pie,
Dry on the outside but the inside soft and sweet...
Where would I start?
Invasion stereophonic fine art
rushing every space, every frequency of cosmic message in the breeze...
Once again it's the cosmic a la mode!
