My Painted FingersThe stars are so low it almost feels like they can be touched. Cold dew on the skin every blade of grass a different sensation Smells of trees and grass fill the lungs Renewed.My Painted Fingers
I remember what it is to be an artist I remember what it means to want freedom The unintelligent moments do not matter anymore fears and worry are so far from this place
The earth spins and quakes around me apologies fill the air balance... a place of non-existence
Thoughts and dreams are no longer intangible They are seen with the naked eye They are within the gras
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"you're a freak and i love you."
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"you're a freak and i love you."
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Oh noes!
The world will shout "Save us" and I will whisper "no"
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"I passionately hate the idea of being with it, I think an artist has always to be out of step with his time."
Orson Welles
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Oh noes!
The world will shout "Save us" and I will whisper "no"
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Nothing's impossible
My blog
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"I passionately hate the idea of being with it, I think an artist has always to be out of step with his time."
Orson Welles
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Time's so near you can almost taste the freedom.There's a warm wind from the south.
Hoist the sail and we'll be gone,by morning this will all seem like a dream.
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"I passionately hate the idea of being with it, I think an artist has always to be out of step with his time."
Orson Welles
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