Smolder in me Let me show you where I am like tulips Here on this hip I am like hornets … More
Not a crash, a whisper or a bang Not a poor player or a sacred chord No struts or frets … More
It was you, who threw sticks and slung stones You, concerned now? At the sight of bones?
I think you, and I am bound somewhere I think “you.”, and I abound.
It wouldn’t do to think of you When the sun is shining and the sky is blue With the children … More