Fighting to surface we push each other down drowning the hopeless we want for the crown What’s mine is yours

Hey-Ho the witch is dead, she dro… The farmer cried before he died wi… If you ask the farmer’s wife she w… “I’ve seen nothing of the sort, be…

You fall on my eyes like snow; quiet, soft and blinding. You accumulate in my soul; at depths worth reminding. While most praise spring, I weep;