if I could breath for youif i could breath for youthere is something tugging at my heartit's pulling me inandputting me outwith out direction,it passes slowlyandthen comes againandthen goesonforever,like the hands of timeticking ticking - tockalways moving forwardnever moving back,andlike a photographthere is always something to remembera smilea momentfrozen for a seconda ticka tockalways moving forwardnever looking back,andsomeone moves a shadowacross the face of timealways moving forwardleaving what's leftbehind,an emptinessa vacancythat memoryjust can't find,andtheres nothing leftbut photographsimprinted to remind,blackandwhiteandfaded colors,of youin another time.for Gail Hill (a true friend)
going back to Houston, maybe! going back to Houston, maybe!the thought of going back to Houston plays a upon my mind, with thoughts of spring and old oak trees with their far reaching giant branches and leaves of forever green, and renting an apartment uptown where culture grows like mold and tree roaches fly about in the warm, humid gulf coast breeze and the tar black-top melts in 99 degree heat, with traffic backed up for miles on interstate 10, and radio for peace, 90.1, KPFT, plays Cajun music on S
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