The soft grit of sand underneath tired feetSoon becomes a soft bed For a bruised, weary backI lay still with the earthCocooned by praying armsA solid ..
Home is hardly four walls and a roofIt is neither place nor thingIt cannot be bound By time or stateMy body has restedIn many beds stationedIn many ro..
I am sitting like a man Sprawled outFeet assaulting the tableMother would not approveThe beer and belches are flowingWe are laughing at lewd thingsYou..