Tuesday, May 13, 2008

The fourth of the month
Falls like every other day
Straight down the line
Only it chases me away
It's strange to hide from time

You wobbly innocent child
I could hold your hand
But sooner or later
You fall to walk.

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After a busy day when confronting admin

 We must all come  Find ourselves And we will all be found Regardless  As the sun finds the morning As breath finds the lungs As I am found ...