Things written long ago and maybe more to come.
Childish ambitions of youth,
All I can hear is the music.
my thoughts abound to my mind of the past
Is my mind’s t.v. on the right channel?
I walk around in circles.
An explosion within that I must contain.
I've seen inside the factory of few and far between,
I make my pleas, you hear my cry,
My fingers grip my hair
But, I can not say till death do us part