The kitten and the child
playing, romping, running wild...

Bellies smacking
rapid fire staccato...

Awake in the night
reaching out for you...

I'm still waiting, reaching out,
don't say you can never be mine...

It's hard to put a shirt on
with a knife in my back...

And along the way,
remember...

Shabby clothes just a well worn skin,
autumn sunset bathes the dead cornfield...

The ragged man shuffles
down the slow alley...

Eyes are emotion oceans,
brain perceptors...

We will board massive ships
and sail to where the wind...

When the waves are placid
and lucid eyes burn bright...

At three o'clock in the morning
when phantom wolves are coming...