the small hometown
lays beneath the surface
of a flaming mountain
idle i wait till moons ache
to hear the roaring sun's fountain
to feel the smoothing thunders
and brooding waves
not a light nor a wonder
so i taste my ways
now
till i have to fly down
Vincent Van Gogh painted The Moon
the small hometown
lays beneath the surface
of a flaming mountain
idle i wait till moons ache
to hear the roaring sun's fountain
to feel the smoothing thunders
and brooding waves
not a light nor a wonder
so i taste my ways
now
till i have to fly down