- Books, Literature, and Writing
The Door's, Jim...
Unlocked & hanging off the hinge,
swinging wide open... Walk through, don't run... Now is not the time to binge,
drink the stuff from the sink, or maybe find a spring, morning stroll across the #3 bridge,
into the land of sand... Look at you're hand, it's sweaty like a clam, thirsty man??? Hit the roadhouse and get doused, it's time to switch,
light on or light off... Only you know where to go, touch me and get burned like waterlogged witch,
screamin' smoke no joke... La' woman take a toke, clear your throat smokin' rope... Loosen the noose and step down two bricks,
down too ground level with you're mojo risin',
the ghost song...
sounds around, sounds pound... Feet scurry abound off into the forest... unbound with know frowns, exploring this land searching for beginnings of the end,
my only friend... Send me security, or maybe some sitar guitar and a pick to lend,
singin' the earth has been around for a long, long time... And It will continue it's journey of a bright blue shine, carrying me and you along... Friends in winter time
Evolve love evlovE