the water paints blend as i try to share my oil with you, helping to keep your lamp bright, as the coming comes can i go with you

the pieces fitting together the fear crowded out with truth flowing and emotions poured out can understand how the

turning the faucet on and asking for something and out it pours, free flowing and full of color, abstract for the eye to see

if only the words were as real as… a b c can tell it right from left the j from the the k fifty years gone by with out the b finding it’s way

sad even the lightning bug has a purpose in a jar but a heart, no place

some grow up with a spot to fill a title to live a for runner of things to come

yellow flashing white laying brown reaching gray creeping blue floating

the rabbit left no ladder the climb –of no way no bounce of the mushroom no tear in the ear will help –end this sway

death the dash is released - freeing the colors to see and put in order to climb the spheres

in times of old it was obscene the character the choice made and history told

while registering to buy Italy your mistaken identity diminished wrapped around and covered with banana peels and egg shells castings smell and then you sell