See a colour,hear a voice. My wandering sleep themes Are mendicant daydreams, Roaming synapse hedgerows, Learn where all your time goes. By writing odd metered stuff, My lines were not good enough. So I had to learn the rules, All of the wise once were fools. My pen can be outrageous, I like being dangerous.
Real things are the writer's toys, True life's full of naughty boys.
Vaguely think for process new. We're nearer the end of our rope. Wisdom is focus not hope. Beetles ate my pretty face, Food scarce,just the human race. Never dreamt I'd feel this way, Hindsight can blame acid rain.