There are many that I miss,having sent my last one out a car windowsparking along the road one night, years ago.
There are many that I miss, having sent my last one out a car window sparking along the road one night, years ago.
Between the dark lakes where the dark rivers flowthere is no ferry waiting on the shore of rockand no man holding a long oar,ready to take your last coin.This is the real earth and the real water it contains.
Between the dark lakes where the dark rivers flow there is no ferry waiting on the shore of rock and no man holding a long oar, ready to take your last coin. This is the real earth and the real water it contains.
Then there were the wits,using their last breath to exhale a line,a devastating capper, as if the worldwere simply a large gallery buzzing with people,and now it was time to throw on a long scarfand make an exit, leavingit to someone else to close the door.
Then there were the wits, using their last breath to exhale a line, a devastating capper, as if the world were simply a large gallery buzzing with people, and now it was time to throw on a long scarf and make an exit, leaving it to someone else to close the door.