|
LADIES CHOICE
|
|
flyin down this hill on my schwin
|
well I guess this is where it all begins
|
go in sandburg come out like ray charles
|
an odor of jasmine for yer flowers
|
sometimes on my bicycle rides
|
these pleasantries fall from the trees
|
little Quixote's fished out like floaties
|
from the bevy of yer choice
|
|
ladies choice
|
|
flyin down this hill on my schwin
|
well I guess it all could have ended then
|
unlike consternation's quagmire above
|
the streets firmly paved ways
|
coupled with speed and gravity
|
and the craniums tendency
|
to leak vital information
|
all over the road to recovery
|
|
|
|
-----------------
|
LADIES CHOICE
|
| The Gourds |
