Heavy in song, burden is a luxury.
Had you not strolled along allotting chalices on weighted fingertips, cascading cards and jubial tendency, maybe a last breath would have been the most ideal fantasy .
A fretful feeling ever fleeting, fickle with fruit and simple. Seldom solidified is the idolatry held for you. The body is a sponge and your lyrics a reverberating infinity. Play a tune for the treasury, darling.
Patter of drums to the beat of natures heart, the soles of one’s feet are where love seems to start. Watch your extremities, careless lover, things that sparkle, tales are told, not all of the value you have rests beside you when you are old.
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