Drinkin' again.
Thinking of when you loved me.
Having a few.
Wishing that you were here.

Making the rounds.
Buying a round for strangers.
Just being a fool,
'cause I keep hoping, hoping you'll appear.

Sure I can borrow a smoke.
and maybe tell some joker a joke,
but who is gonna laugh, who is gonna laugh
oh, at my broken heart?

And I'm drinking again.
Thinking of when you loved me.
And I'm tryin' to get home
with nothing, nothing but a memory.

Yes, I'm dying to get home,
dying to get home.
And I got nothin' but a bottle of beer,
and just my memory.

Jess Roden

had to cut this up

let's go fly a kite...up where the air is light....let's go fly a kite and send it soaring...up to the atmosphere, up where the air is clear, oh let's go fly a kite.

or....is that you Mr. Hanky? yeah...thought so. (somehow remotely inspired by Axil62).

As I awoke this evening with the smell of wood smoke clinging
Like a gentle cobweb hanging upon a painted tepee
Oh I went to see my chieftain with my warlance and my woman
For he told us that the yellow moon would very soon be leaving
This I can’t believe I said, I can’t believe our warlord’s dead
Oh he would not leave the chosen ones to the buzzards and the soldiers guns

Oh great father of the Iroquois ever since I was young
I’ve read the writing of the smoke and breast fed on the sound of drums
I’ve learned to hurl the tomahawk and ride a painted pony wild
To run the gauntlet of the sioux, to make a chieftain’s daughter mine

And now you ask that I should watch
The red man’s race be slowly crushed
What kind of words are these to hear
From yellow dog whom white man fears

I take only what is mine lord, my pony, my squaw, and my child
I can’t stay to see you die along with my tribe’s pride
I go to search for the yellow moon and the fathers of our sons
Where the red sun sinks in the hills of gold and the healing waters run

Trampling down the prairie rose leaving hoof tracks in the sand
Those who wish to follow me I welcome with my hands
I heard from passing renegades geronimo was dead
He’d been laying down his weapons when they filled him full of lead

Now there seems no reason why I should carry on
In this land that once was my land I can’t find a home
It’s lonely and it’s quiet and the horse soldiers are coming
And I think it’s time I strung my bow and ceased my senseless running
For soon I’ll find the yellow moon along with my loved ones
Where the buffalos graze in clover fields without the sound of guns

And the red sun sinks at last into the hills of gold
And peace to this young warrior comes with a bullet hole

(Bernie Taupin/Elton john)

flower boxes

saturday playtime

to the shores of my imagination...

This doesn't do it justice. here's the link....http://www.ceramicshowcase.com/ (I didn't have the link in front of me when I drew it..only the flyer, it cuts off at her hip so I completely forgot about the bottom. Hope I have enough space to attempt to finish it.

let's play awhile