Summer dies with Bullets
Winter arrives with Bombs
Autumn fades with Death
Spring breaks with Sex
Days pass with the funky Smell
Nights slip away with Bottleneck Guitar Slide sound
Mornings drown in the old man's Sweat
Evening too drown in the young man's soup
the roads know no Kerouac
the trees stand still like morning penis
the rivers sigh crying for a simple song
the men curse their wives for shaking all night
No comments:
Post a Comment