Were there ever simple times?
A time when everything was smooth
As the morning dew
Rather I object
That time neither existed
In romance or
Realism but
Was a fragment
Of imagination
Lodged in the hopeful
For today is the day
Of hope for me
Regardless of the fate I see
We start in with
Today
Waning night
Evening gone
Morning later
Will bring the dawn
For now I rest
An easy soul
In my heart
And growing old
Religion in sound bite form
Looses something
From the depth
Of a northern light
To the quick selling
Famine
Plight
Not even good
Or alright
Express religion
In its cheapest form
Saving graces
Running all over the human
Race
From one to another
Just a word can redeem
What was once lost
But now back
In seen
On the town
Their is a place
To go
When the world grows
Weary in your eyes
When the sun rises
Feelings anew
Coffee in New York City
Is the best place to remember
That life is a continuum
Of the new and old
When the world looks back
To say thanks
For all you have grown
Sick shoes
Nothing new
On the road
Out of fuel
Hold on tight
As the fever passes through
Saturday sun
Fades to a Sunday moon
All comes up
And gone too soon
Days filled with autumn fall
Upon my eyes
Not one
But all
In a parking lot
West of town
Water falls
Straight down
Into the puddle
On the ground
Into the swells all around
Work it up
All night long
Make the late night goers
Hope in the up sale
Goes all the way up
The infamous English muffin
Was no muffin at all
It was a disguise
Of disgust
I had in my eyes
A Cup of Songwriting 