I watch the ripples change their size
But never leave the stream
Of warm impermanence
And so the days float through my eyes
But still the days seem the same
And these children that you spit on
As they try to change their worlds
Are immune to your consultations
They're quite aware of what they're goin' through

Tuesday, January 30, 2007

Work, work, work

Yesterday was a 12 hour day at work. Sunday was an early morning woodworking class, and then errands afterward. So, for a Sunday, it was a long day. I'm back to dragging my butt.

Blessed St. Caffeine, send us your balm and heal our contemptuous souls.
Mind dumped by at

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