The weather never set it's course when we began last summer. It came to us like a holy ghost in pages never numbered/ My heart flowed and showed it's source. The sleeping giant slumbered. I always wept without remorse for the hearts that beat like thunder/ We are the pockets of the low and of the high pressure/ The rain drops, the winds grow when we come together// We pick up many trailer parks and pick on flood plains man/ We block the light, grow the dark and saturate the land/ We twist around as we touch down; they love football in Texas/ We go were we play thoughtlessly, like words about your ex's/ We are the packets of the low and of the high pressure/ Lightning jumps and fears grow when we come together.

I was blindfolded by the one who was to serve the good of us all and told not to worry about the answers so readily and practically packed into plastic media waves or less; the latest fad/addiction of human tradgedy or depravity to enthrall us all in wide cast nets.

Like a transfusion of blood, I'm giving you the love you need/ Like a lighthouse or a clue, I look towards you to guide me/ Just like gods and parents could, you make the world so good for me/ Quite like Christ & Joan of Arc, you light the spark of heresy.

The lights are on but nobody's home/ Make grave mistakes: Graves make their own/ Make graeat mistakes the years before you/ Make for the door like black to coal/ Into the night; Death's shrouded veil/ In karmic light; God's goldy scale/ Imagine gravediggers finding gold/ Bad people-good things; it always shows.

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