oh so well that God himself can’t tell. What I mean and why
my words are less than parallel with my feet. You ask me what I
need. And all I really need is to breathe.
I get lostin the beauy of
everything I see the world ain't half
as bad as they
paint it to be
IF
ALL THE SONS, ALL THE DAUGHTERS STOPPED TO TAKE IT
IN - well hopefullythe
hate subsides and thelovecanbegin IT MIGHT START NOW, YEAH well maybe I'm
just dreaming out loud