I don't care what he does
I don't care what she says
Writers and photographers
It's not for me to know
It's not for me to know
My alarm clock, naturalized
Currency ebbs and flows
Germany short sells hope
So shifting, that circle
So shifting, that circle
The politics of the street
Polymorph from stride to eye
Senate builds a brick labyrinth
I wish I could care
I wish I could care
The tour bus kicks up dirt
Crushing chalk at 75
Guitars scream with no plucks
My vocals are blocked
My vocals are blocked
I can hum out tunes with you
But what's the use
Your ears are quiet
My flute dances like that bird
The Woodman
Woody The Pecker
Sensed, Heard, Believed
Yeah
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I write rhymes. I write checks.
Proofs of Purchase
The following thoughts have filtered from a mind that has been oversaturated with images, screams, romance, text, and sounds since The Carter Administration. If you are not satisfied, then I recommend a double chocolate brownie from Starbucks with a tall bold of the day.
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