Red is not bloody but pastel.

Oh great rose

How do you do it

I can not do what you do

How is it that you cut my hand

And remain a thing of beauty


Oh the wind blows

I don't know how the future is

But there is a sign

And another

I follow and there is a light


Sweet things never stink

But they can see

They know

The have no instruction manuals

And have different time speeds.