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Mud Pies
04:52
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Mud pies and mud sliding and grass stains
Strawberry pickin' and autumn rains
The smell of wooden barrels and dusty novels
My little world is so cliche
Some of think too much and
We feed that cynical, old man inside
I wish I could be everyone to everyone
I find freedom when I'm unable
One could take a crow bar to my mind
And find-- a primitive, simple kind
My profound thoughts have been thought before
But possibly--never noticed
I know the fear of unrecognition
I know the empty cup it fills
Oh yes,
I know that emptiness
I don't know what wrote
My genetic code, but I have a vague impression
That its sense of humor is somewhat cruel
But fair, when court's in session
One could take a crow bar to my mind
and find, a primitive, simple kind
My profound thoughts have been thought before
But possibly never noticed
But You...
But You are the One
Who makes the angels come
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Natalie Joy Dinsfriend Eugene, Oregon
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