Glastonbury blues.

 
Old worn down shoes,
skippin' as Fair Due,
flying LED Swifts off the Tor;
 
Singing to the dreams in my head,
talking to the brown bread.
 
Exploding the hill,
paying the homeless bill,
a million miles from home,
seeds are sown.
 
Burns the bread,
a potter in a shed;
dream catchers on the door,
dragons and faeries,
a home for the poor.
 
So walk with me on Avalon day,
let's go out and play.

 
The dream has just begun.

~