The night is falling.
There is so much guilt
from man to man
from woman to woman.
Sacrifices of the days
the moments,
are the stream of forbidden words.
The hands all so dirty,
stained with nothing but pain.
Here, the sun is bright.
Sitting under the canopy of the trees
looking up
there, one bird
another
and another
all ready to fly away from me
running on the lap of tomorrow
brighter than today
perhaps rainier
cloudier.
Oh, how much I do love the rainy days.
My mind, so fast, with swirling the path
of so many girls before me
the ones that I haven\'t touched their souls yet
but I might, with the droplets of my soul
parallel to their dreams.