|
The hobo dream their atoms love to touch
right into the fondest part of hell
that smells of life too much, too much
rat anger beats the brains of heaven, Mordred, moan
the dreamer melted into a stone
Steam shovel morals storm the gates of pearly steep
The ring you seek, Lady, is cankered up too deep
Hold off your heartache till the morning
Postman time will come
with more leaden lessons for deaf sore to thumb
till some rich doom writes you off the page of mind.
|
![[logo:
Kansas Heritage Group]](../heritage.gif){kind=small}