At it agaain… chai tea latte at Sitwells, paper writing, day dream believer.
to destroy a home →
click and listen
Fog’s rollin’ in off the East River bank Like a shroud it covers Bleeker Street Fills the alleys where men sleep Hides the shepherd from the sheep Voices leaking from a sad cafe Smiling faces try to understand I saw a shadow touch a shadow’s hand On Bleeker Street A poet reads his crooked rhyme Holy, holy is his sacrament Thirty dollars pays your rent On Bleeker Street I head a...
a song I forgot about →