excowboy

The weather of the demon-possessed is upon us! Sunny skin melting heat, rain, humid and over cast, rain, sunny and humid, rain, humid and windy, dark and humid with chance of rain, rainy and humid, windy monsoons, rainy annnnnnd humid... jesus help us!!

Today I saw a 2000'ish four door Mazda with "Spinners", and one of the back wheels wasn't "spinning". Thats gotta suck!
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One of these days, I'm going to cut you into little pieces.

A cloud of eiderdown draws around me softening a sound. Sleepy time, and I lie with my love by my side and she's breathing low; and the candle dies. When night comes down you lock the door. The book falls to the floor. As darkness falls the waves roll by. The seasons change. The wind is wry.

Now wakes the hour, now sleeps the swan. Behold the dream, the dream is gone. Green fields are calling; It's falling in a golden door, and deep beneath the ground the early morning sounds, and I go down. Sleepy time and I lie with my love by my side and she's breathing low; and I rise, like a bird, in the haze, when the first rays touch the sky... and the night wings die.

You say the hill's too steep to climb. Climb it. You say you'd like to see me try. Climbing. You pick the place and I'll choose the time and I'll climb that hill in my own way. Just wait a while for the right day; and as I rise above the tree lines and the clouds I look down, hearing the sound of the things you've said today. Fearlessly the idiot faced the crowd. Smiling. Merciless the magistrate turns 'round. Frowning; and who's the fool who wears the crown? Go down in your own way, and every day is the right day; and as you rise above the fear-lines in his brow you look down, hearing the sound of the faces in the crowd.

As I reach for a peach, slide a rind down behind the sofa in San Tropez, breakin' a stick with a brick on the sand; ridin' a wave In the wake of an old sedan. Sleepin' alone in the drone of the darkness scratched by the sand that fell from my love, deep in my dreams and I still hear her callin': "If you're alone, I'll come home."

Backward and homebound, the pigeon, the dove, gone with the wind and the rain, on an airplane. Owning a home with no silver spoon, I'm drinking champagne like a good tycoon. Sooner than wait for a break in the weather, I'll gather my far-flung thoughts together. Speeding away on the wind to a new day; and if you're alone I'll come home; and I pause for a while by a country style and listen to the things they say. Diggin' for gold with a hoe in my hand. Open a book, take a look at the way things stand; and you're leading me down to the place by the sea. I hear your soft voice calling to me; making a date for later by phone, and if you're alone I'll come home.

I was in the kitchen, Seamus, that's the dog, was outside. Well, I was in the kitchen, Seamus, my old hound, was outside. Well, the sun sinks slowly, but my old hound just sat right down and cried.

Overhead the albatross hangs motionless upon the air, and deep beneath the rolling waves In labyrinths of coral caves an echo of a distant time comes willowing across the sand; and everything is green and submarine; and no one called us to the land; and no one knows the where's or why's. Something stirs and something tries, starts to climb toward the light.

Strangers passing in the street by chance two separate glances meet, and I am you and what I see is me; and do I take you by the hand and lead you through the land and help me understand the best I can? No one called us to the land, and no one crosses there alive. No one speaks and no one tries. No one flies around the sun.

Almost everyday you fall upon my waking eyes. Inviting and inciting me to rise; and through the window in the wall come streaming in on sunlight wings a million bright ambassadors of morning... and no one sings me lullabyes, and no one makes me close my eyes. So I throw the windows wide and call to you across the sky....