...and counting...

12/26/2002

 
Black and White
from 9/19/'02

big cloud of death air
I can't get the grim reaper
out of my hair
I got black eyes
from the black tears.
I feel nostalgic
I'm turning gray
You won't notice that I fade
'til the motorcade
rolls away
'til I'm gone
you won't know
what you've got
or what we've got
until its too late
only when it can't be had
will you look back.
every now and then
I ask for change
but its like my voice
is out of range
and what you hear
just sounds strange
my point will only get across
when you are at a loss
of opportunity
of the words to speak
of me.