Listen; this world is the lunatic’s sphere , Don’t always agree it’s real, Even with my feet upon it And the postman knowing my door My address is somewhere else.
Now is the time to understand That all your ideas of right and wrong Were just a child’s training wheels to be laid aside When you finally live With veracity And love.
I long for You so much I follow barefoot Your frozen tracks That are high in the mountains That I know are years old. I long for You so much I have even begun to travel Where I have never been before.
Run my dear, from anything that may not strengthen your precious budding wings. Run like hell my dear, from anyone likely to put a sharp knife into the sacred, tender vision of your beautiful heart.
What do sad people have in common? It seems they have all built a shrine to the past and often go there and do a strange wail and worship. What is the beginning of Happiness? It is to stop being so religious like that.
