Sometimes the atmosphere here is a bordello of bad loveand only the horses seem to fling their heads highin wide grins of approval.Their teeth are gre..
I want to go where the rider staysbetween the lines toward a golden hazeWhere nothings gasps but the air that is drawnfrom my lips when the skyline fa..
Sometimes in the middle of the night I am in love with youbut you are sleepingraindrops paddle in the mud puddle outside our windowwhere the soil runs..
Ialways run a loose ship and I love water and the milk blueof early morning, the tomboy trees that belonged to mychildhood, where I was shy and watchf..