Quincey

Who can ever say, we will warm our bones, when life is like today the picture is not kind, you can cry but don’t, around's not a pretty sight, thoughts get delayed, the same at any Front, when stuff is far from plain, like the harvest light, comes without trace of sound, it’s the living who cry, maybe I’ll take a train, find someone to love , if it comes this way, make my horizon bright, whatever else I’ve done, yes that’s the style, we're all far from home.