Tuesday, June 28, 2011

The very long road to home

"He who procrastinates will light the long fuse of dynamite."
— Geoff Rogers

Collar up when I am done with little world, callous games the whiling ain’t lame.
Summers gone my forehead looks pale, bubbles laugh, toads speak again.

Again....I see the sun...and wind blows, blows it away.
I hide him between the clouds and he takes it for a showering pride.
The next day he procrastinates coz he’s down in bed.

So fellow flock of buttermilk sky, go ringa and merry go round.
And then they settle down haze, it bummer those uphill town folks.
The folks....are in countryside too and they sure are my homies
Coz...they’ll let me sing the blues and wander just to kill time frame.

So paddle up and sail down the breeze, with collars up it mints down my waist.
I see this road narrows and falls into horizon, there it lasts, it lasts.

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