I've walked a many a mile,
if i took of my shoes you'd lose your smile. . . .
Got love for the wild and the little things,
like the looks that she gives me and the way she sings . . .
got love for the people though im ashamed sometimes,
of the way we treat each other when our lights dont shine. . . .
I talk through my past with my hands tied,
my mouth sown shut and two blind eyes,
leaking tears from an ocean deep,
full of treading dreams though im not asleep. . . .
subject to the winter wind,
But the artist behind everything. . . .
So dig deep, when the palettes dry,
The colors are dim or the muse has died . . . .
we reap what we put in,
planting season must begin. . . .
Got the love cause i know you well,
My ancient friend who lives in hell. . . .
with me.