The sweet subtleties of the city
Through the breeze of leaves
Blossom from the long winter
Spring man now enter
In the calmness of May
May we be entertained by the weather
Alone
The gentle feel of a mild day
Close your eyes
To feel the city lift you away
The country mind
Somehow growing up dreaming of the city
The bright lights
Open all night
The bustle of people
And feeling alright
Yet differently
How the city mind
Grows up dreaming of the country fields
Wind swept
Vast land appeal
There is no perfect remedy to this deal
For one desires the other
For the other can never be
What the city life provides
The country life will never be
So fill life full with many experiences
Long for the city
Long for the fields
The experiences we gain
We be our minds true yield
The breeze through the leaves of New York City
Any other city would be untrue
Somehow in a full town
It feels like just me
And you
There comes a point
When the life you dream
Becomes the life you live
There is no slowing down
No retreat
What you have to give
Must be in high quality
And on repeat
The dedication becomes meditation
Reaching for the highest moment
Unknown
The moments continue to grow
To make new opportunities
The moments can be less
About what you do
They begin to define
You
The inconsolable sociopath
Taking note of what to destroy
Along the path
It is sad
That little can be done for such sadness
How can I reflect on my own faults
Weaknesses and shortcomings
Undone and left for incomplete
I wake in the morning
To refine the nimbleness of the fingers
Mind and stretch the soul
I will admit that my own weakness
Is that I can not slow down
Take hold
But if we search for only the shortcomings
Of one another
We will be sorely disappointed
None can claim perfection as a profession
Such naysayers can have such perfusion
A fusion feeding the needing soul
Passing through this life
Looking for the simple imperfections to hold on to
I pass over this
Wake up again and let it go to rest
There is only so much stress
I stay cool
Under the real life test
How much plastic must be shoved in my face
Through my eyes and in my brain
From the plastics on the television
To the faces injected and filled
After incision
Are we a deliberate plastic culture
Seizing every opportunity
And financial gains like vultures
How is it that this is the specimen
Of us
We cultured
From the blabbing heads with fake lips
The reality shows full of fake tits
One morning it just hit
We are a culture of pure plastic
The fuss of the day
Quite offsetting I would say
Strayed from what is ideal
To the real creation of an idea
2 ideas get away
Understood that not everything can be so perfect
So I will work with it
We make our day ideal
No matter what’s cards are intertwined
In the deal
How is the brain
Wired in such a way
That even simple tasks
Under great pressure
Can seem so unachievable
So distant
Out of control
How is it that ideas
Thoughts and motions
Can move my head
In evening rest
To stay awake all night
To turn left and right
So irritable the mind can be
When the pressure is turned high
On me
The city has a way of changing you
Rearranging you
To make something new
And strange
To help you understand
The inner wirings
Of man
There is a song that can be played
Over a thousand times and
Never ring old or untrue
A song that is played at wedding times
A song that is by your side in difficult times
To help see you through
To jump on in pure celebrations
To lean on in times of sadness and frustration
There is a couple of chords
A melody so light and easy
That it is played for someone in a wedding gown
Or when you have to lay a loved one down
It can draw tears in the morning
As the sun becomes anew
Falling tears touching cheeks
As water trickles on grass
In the morning dew
There is a song
Played in these time of jubilation
But also in times of desperation
It is a song that celebrates life
But also reflects on what is right
What is right is that there is a song
A song that exists in all of us
That we must sing to each other
From my soul to you
So we can see each other through
A Cup of Songwriting 