not gonna mind myself she knows what its time to be the beat it hasn't shaken loose its rhythm defies whispered reverie have you seen the story written backwards hand rotates widdershins fingers with their own minds ballad scratched a thousand imprints secretly released behind the backs of guardians blinded willingly barbed wire crocheted pattern haphazard may as well decoupage the soul patchwork heart, hole punched mind did you ever guess she might have had wings flight seeded by the heart never set free she'll appear random intervals solid only briefly dotted boundaries disappear fancy free wave and smile she seemingly appears to me but we all suspect most tape left behind on the cutting room floor
happy 57th birthday to me.
