Tuesday, September 07, 2010


Looking down the hill

Wild cherries with a footprint

Lonely as a window sill

Burning smoke and a flavor mint

Swing sky high into the song

The rope that holds you tight

The birds have taken rather long

To kill the angels with all their might

Descend slowly back into the joke

The ropes that you are freed from

The birds hold the gun as he spoke

Speechless as he lets go of the gun

Looking up into space

Melting stars with no name

Starving to win the race

The footprints are to blame

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