... Singing to trees made in a sleepless dream as they shoot their roots through the mouth of misery,a twisted river that waters the fruitless tree
that feeds only the tormented and tragic.
Even if the truth is quite differnt from a platitude swimming lazily by,around,through the empty drifts of the ordinary conversations
that I hear with the borrowed ear of a cynic.
Smile for the reason that produced it,not for fear of failure in the tribe.
Fear not the beast that gave birth to children reeking of opulence and
Yes I need sleep friends