One Day I Will Find The Right

Down In Denver, All I Did Was Die.

My Fault, My Failure, Is Not In The Passions I Have, But In My Lack Of Control Of Them.

But They Need To Worry And Betray Time With Urgencies False And Otherwise, Purely Anxious And Whiny, Their Souls Really Won't Be At Peace Unless They Can Latch To An Established And Proven Worry And Having Once Found It They Assume Facial Expressions To Fit And Go With It, Which Is, You See, Unhappiness, And All The Time It All Flies By Them And They Know It And That Too Worries Them No End.

To The Children And The Innocent It's All The Same.

The Tree Looks Like A Dog, Barking At Heaven.