Overt your eyes, you gazing flock, for I despise and dread you.
Deceiving eyes attempt to mock the lackings of your stale brew
A fish, a bird, a sea, a dive, you live a seagull’s life
And little interests is to me the sound of your small fife.
My intellect may speak to me but eyes can see, can feel.
Alas I may not prove myself to freedom that I will
And so, today, I gaze at you as you may spread your wings
A flap, another, off you soar to see what morrow brings.
2 comments:
Good Stuff!
Having a nice time in LA aren't we?
Ah yes... the stale brew...
Bah, it's not just LA, it's the whole world... and the freedom thing... BTW, I think it might be more of a control issue...
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