skip to main |
skip to sidebar
The Ocean is large and I'm still finding my way (even though I don't know where I'm going)
Move over TS Eliot
Down on your hands and knees
Underneath the poplar trees
Down in the sticks and stones
Looking for store bought bones
Baby I'm the rising sun
Clutching at your holstered gun
Baby I'm a shooting star
I'm looking wherever you are
Looking through a telescope
Maybe there's a sign of hope
Leaving everything behind
Discovering your store bought mind
Sending everything to the sea
Wishing you were here by me
Shifting through the mountain of bricks
Searching for a store bought fix
You can't buy what you can't find what you can't buy
What you find what you can't buy what you can't
What you can't buy what you can't find what you can't
You can't buy what you can't find what you can't buy
What you find what you can't buy what you can't
What you can't buy what you can't find what you can't
What you can't buy what you can't find what you can't
Blog Archive
-
▼
2007
(97)
-
▼
November
(13)
- More walls
- New paint
- A pig in the ocean
- Catch of the day...
- I had forgotten Walt Whitman
- Why I love the Manolo...
- Two words of the day (for the price of one!)
- What were you thinking?
- The thoughtful dresser
- Books for kids
- What's the cause?
- On beauty
- Word of the day - equipoise - and poetry in unexpe...
-
▼
November
(13)
About Me
I grow old...I grow old...
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.
Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers and walk along the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.
I do not think that they will sing to me.
TS Eliot
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.
Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers and walk along the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.
I do not think that they will sing to me.
TS Eliot
No comments:
Post a Comment