Such trying through love.




I was taken to the alms house,
a poor, a gentle town mouse,
where the trinity glows,
what cost, this peace in the groves?


He gave her a voice,
through the pain of labour
and the blood of existence.


Throw me that can of peaches,
the fire is still warm.


Any day now,
they will raise a bus shelter,
to this sweet thane
and hitch-hikers, cosmic bikers,
will undo all the gain.


This coke, this bullet,
is dying to make you love;
the sounding brass,
tinkling, water gold wheel,
turns in the wind.


An Eagle has come home,
the mice will be counting the corn.



~