A Progressive Pat on the Proverbial Back
I put my hand to the tree I let my fingers fall across I feel the texture, the temperature, the contour It’s real. I know it, as I drag my hand […]
I put my hand to the tree I let my fingers fall across I feel the texture, the temperature, the contour It’s real. I know it, as I drag my hand […]
I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth When I open my face I can’t stop words from fallin’ out It doesn’t really matter what those words might […]