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
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Story Bone
There was another political post that came out, but I'll spare you all. Instead, here's a line in search of a story. The two had nothing in common.
"The difference between being put on a pedestal and being lynched is where they drape the rope."
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