Tuesday, February 4th

There was a man who
Knew the city well he
Lived a couple blocks from
Where he was born
He hung up his sheets on
The roof of his building
And in the morning
They were all torn

There was a woman
Who lived by the ocean
And she knew that she would
Go back to the earth
She watched the coastline
Watching for a sign
That her mother was there
Waiting for her

I don't want to live
I don't want to live so long
That it isn't living anymore

There was a time when
We talked through our paintings
Told stories through sketching
On the walls of a cave
The stories aren't gone now
We've just found a way how
We can tell them with words
And it's not quite the same

There is a writing
That's older than mankind
That everyone's always
Trying to find
I've seen it in faces
In lines and in traces
And in the eyes of
Those that are blind

I don't want to live
I don't want to live so long
That it isn't living anymore
I'll go in the morning
I'll go when the sun's not up
So she won't have to see me leave