Homeless eyes,
Angels fall down,
Baby cries,
Hunger sound,
Hand in the night,
Shoulder softly gripped,
Comfort in respite,
Though tight lipped,
A twenty won't get it,
Unlimited eagles swill,
No presidents fit,
The way I feel.
Solitude is cold,
Nature is bliss,
I am getting old,
And tire of this.
Peasantry and hypocrisy
To be divine with out me,
A sinking of thinking is all I do,
While drowning in memories of you..............
FTBAS 1.22.13
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