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

Sunday, July 29, 2012

Music to write to

Must stop watching the Olympics. Listening to the commentary around the swimming events is a lot like the old horse race joke that ends, "It's Patch and Born Late, neck and neck, Patch and Born Late. Born Late and Patch, struggling for dominance and across the finish line… Another Day takes it by three lengths."

Anyway, some more music to write by.

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