When stars forget to light the midnight sky, and restless tides no more their motions ply; when Earth upon its axis fails to turn, and setting suns the skies no longer burn;

He’s coming home for Christmas. He’s coming home to stay, our loyal son of Uncle Sam, born in the great USA He’s coming home for Christmas, the baby whom I bore.

“They´ve blown up the pillar” he shouted triumphantly, his ear pressed firmly to his old transistor radio. “That´ll show the bastards”, he added

“They´ve blown up the pillar” he shouted triumphantly, his ear pressed firmly to his old transistor radio. “That´ll show the bastards”, he added.

dig deep...

Just before she slept...

I have blotting paper skin, your marks are on me, Like your hand on my hip in the morning.