aint it good to be alive ( yay for Autumn)
Attempting contemplation of the senses
and tracing sticky fingers over memories I hold
of you and I and them and they
in times when nothing was the matter at the hand
and my what a matter can nothing be.
Spacey breathed transcripts
pour over the silences now
the deciever has set the stone to turn
still I yearn
of moments when the same was never to be
a day would turn swiftly to her sister
and the song continues
a fugue of sorts
and patterned notes turn in spiral
brothers in space
a realtive notion of family orientation.
See my soul, sister
mirrored by your smile
but the back beat to this jive
listen closly mama
aint it good to be alive?