It is no longer about yesterday. Or the future yet to come. Death has crept into the shadow of our lives. Eats away at the very fabric of our excistence. Mort the uninvited guest at our table.
Love is where the blind eye lives Love is where the free hand gives Love is where you find your heart Love is where the fire starts
The sun melts like Orange ice Behind the steel grey line The evening air-brush painted Into the lofty sky On by one the stars appear I shed my clothes Leave them on the shoreline
Today it is twenty years ago that you were born. 11 weeks to early, weighing no more than 3 pounds.
Love is a bread bin The one just over there My master makes some toast 'Please give me some' I beg 'You'll get your diner later' He says and pats my back I sit there while he eats it