It's another year...gone.
No pictures to be drawn.
So I'll bury myself...
In words.
In pages and numbers...
And aching, wild hungers...
Envying the simple freedom...
Of birds.
The promise of tomorrow...
And yesterdays broken sorrow...
One score and five...
Where do I fit in?
The hurting still reminds me...
Of things only the blind see...
And of the truth...
You have to loose, to win.
