never heard nothing like the velvet underground
distortion and echo sounds
rambling lyrical space rides
back to the audience and numb.
the wind keeps blowing ashes in my eyes
i wonder, i wonder, of the the day that i will die
hope to have singing, hope to have cheers
talk about the fine times and break a smile, my dear
The ones who embark on slippery paths.
Carefully walking the roads with serious intent.
Ignorant to the unknown and lurking tempters.
With glowing faces and occupied minds.
Unprepared for the collisions and destruction.
Leaving stray animals and orphans all around
Left to the earthworms and red oak roots.
The winds carry the melodies and poems.