this strange plan is random at best
this strange how much more can i take
this strange sound you said i said
your'e not listening or im not saying it right
this strange war of promises
lets call this a truce, call it the truth
every normal man must be tempted, at times,
to spit on his hands, hoist the black flag,
and begin slitting throats.
With one more look at you
I could learn to tame the clouds
And let the sun shine through
Leave a troubled past and I might start anew
I'll solve the mysteries if you're the prize
Refresh these tired eyes.
The east and the west are mine, the north and the south are mine. All seems beautiful to me.
— Walt Whitman