From: Quiet City


Childhood Lost

Strings of reason

like cold

spaghetti over screaming

silence. Old

hot flames end in

this, as time

rolls on nazi wheels

over ravaged



Hard Rider

Don't look the

horse in the

mouth so long

you see the

gift too late

to ride



The blind see it....... The deaf hear it....... The dumb speak it......

© 1995 - Paul Elliott

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