A million miles of man made hell I trample underfoot. Scars visible when I cry; and then some inside. Souls of the waterwalkers feet abolated for reentry. Sickened to nausea and a pause to spill. The human body is a wonderfull machine, a temple always under repair. If there were no hope,.... there would be no one left,... To sing,... To cry,.. To make love,... To build anew. Hope,... She's a clean machine, powered by love. On the shoulders of giants? Unfortunate fools,..many of them. Sometimes the loftiest ambitions go unnoticed. And sometimes,.... eyes will shine, Like a sparkling red wine, from a bottle that never needs to be opened to be experienced.
