Sunday, September 30, 2012

From Tolstoy to Tinker Bell

The sky is gray and white and cloudy, 
Sometimes I think it's hanging down on me. 
And it's a hitchhike a hundred miles. 
I'm a rag-a-muffin child. 
Pointed finger-painted smile. 
I left my shadow waiting down the road for me a while. 

My thoughts are scattered and they're cloudy, 
They have no borders, no boundaries. 
They echo and they swell 
From Tolstoy to Tinker Bell. 
Down from Berkeley to Carmel. 
Got some pictures in my pocket and a lot of time to kill.

Hey sunshine 
I haven't seen you in a long time. 
Why don't you show your face and bend my mind? 
These clouds stick to the sky 
Like floating questions, why? 
And they linger there to die. 
They don't know where they are going and my friend,
neither do I. 


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