My OperaLittle Morsels in Mind
Friday, January 25, 2008 8:05:36 PM
Friend says I can never write a lick
Then I told her you just did.
When sleeping sitting still in bed
I jump to the opportunity to do some dishes
I measured myself today
Gravity has way of stretching the boiance of my fat
When the trememdous need is vacent
the lasting impression of sand and glass occurs
One tends to push ones belief out
One who is in need of a science
Lately I am haunted by still water
Lately I am haunted by machines of brass and polished steel.
None of these machines tend to recover tend to discover
without the truth of ones own hand.
Ever wonder what the profession of your making is?
Ever wonder how far the profession of your life will take you?
Then I told her you just did.
When sleeping sitting still in bed
I jump to the opportunity to do some dishes
I measured myself today
Gravity has way of stretching the boiance of my fat
When the trememdous need is vacent
the lasting impression of sand and glass occurs
One tends to push ones belief out
One who is in need of a science
Lately I am haunted by still water
Lately I am haunted by machines of brass and polished steel.
None of these machines tend to recover tend to discover
without the truth of ones own hand.
Ever wonder what the profession of your making is?
Ever wonder how far the profession of your life will take you?
