the tick tock of time passing sitting on clay roads in kansas clouds on the ground fog and hollow empty roads running along a ridge of silence white and clandestine alone and alone all alone
white sky and bone billows in bellows of wind and wasteland together in marginal madness we color by numbers within lines pictures and portraits of fading shapes
the science of knowing the knowing of nothing establishing compass points and numerical characters to mark our place determine our progress establish our position
yet in one continual theme of grey the emptiness reclaims in calm all of the noise of today in the endless foam of tomorrow's promise and the ebbing tide of yesterdays
if i could picture the eyes of my children if i could dance on their smiles and open my horizons to their groping grasping hands i would lay in their possession my passions and my portion of all that is cloaked in joy and sadness for one eternal moment of harmony and childhood living with them forever without fear or striving in the stream of light that flows forth from the innocent childlike hope of a father's return and a home filled with warmth and compassion
whatever happened to my youth?
choose well children make a path and steer clear of footsteps which falter on guilt and regret
love those you love there is nothing elsecrossroads in kansas:
the tick tock of time passing sitting on clay roads in kansas clouds on the ground fog and hollow empty roads running along a ridge of silence white and clandestine alone and alone all alone
white sky and bone billows in bellows of wind and wasteland together in marginal madness we color by numbers within lines pictures and portraits of fading shapes
the science of knowing the knowing of nothing establishing compass points and numerical characters to mark our place determine our progress establish our position
yet in one continual theme of grey the emptiness reclaims in calm all of the noise of today in the endless foam of tomorrow's promise and the ebbing tide of yesterdays
if i could picture the eyes of my children if i could dance on their smiles and open my horizons to their groping grasping hands i would lay in their possession my passions and my portion of all that is cloaked in joy and sadness for one eternal moment of harmony and childhood living with them forever without fear or striving in the stream of light that flows forth from the innocent childlike hope of a father's return and a home filled with warmth and compassion
whatever happened to my youth?
choose well children make a path and steer clear of footsteps which falter on guilt and regret
