He got bad, and she got mad, he lowered one more time
And she got even
No one heard a single word and as the clock ticked from next door
I could hear her breathing

And I said good morning Mrs. Sumner I would like you to meet my friend Mr. Jones
He has a house made out of butterflies
I can't sleep sometimes but I've been told
It's a lonely condition called growing old
Let me stumble sometimes

I'm looking for a soul to cling to
Girl what you think about that

This time, well it all comes down
To loss and strain and butterflies
Then it comes right down to me

Hello have you been alright
Did you find a piece of something wrapped around the light side of your life
To make you feel better
Did you get out with your sanity
Did you save a little something for the people in need
And did you know with the rain in your pockets
You can change the weather

Is it just the total for the wages of our sins
And have you made yourself a victim
In a game that you can't win
And are we caving in
And does it all depend on loss and strain and butterflies
And does it come right down to me anymore
This time
Does it all come down
To loss and strain and butterflies

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Trying something different. This is the first time I've used a mouse pen, it takes alittle getting used to.

This was one of those times when you are on the fence about whether or not you really feel like drawing, then you do.

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This is Willie Nelson's somber eye, and my reffy of him.... his forehead isn't done-- reached my size limit.

It preserves just enough sanity to keep it going.

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