The Beatles
Tell me that you've got everything you want
and your bird can sing, but you don't get me
You don't get me
You say you've seen seven wonders
and your bird can sing, but you don't get me
You don't get me
When your prized possessions start to wear you down
Look in my direction, I'll be 'round, I'll be 'round
When your bird is broken, will it bring you down
You may be a-walkin', I'll be 'round, I'll be 'round
Tell me that you've heard every sound there is
and your bird can swing, but you can't hear me
You can't hear me
freedom comes from the strangest places doesn't it? a pissed off moment here, a smile from a stranger there, an acceptance of the jitteriness and the restlessness of the moments we're all living, and growing, through right now. the sunrise begins a new journey, an extension of an unexpected extension ,ong ago when my car dies in mishawaka indiana. mishawaka is a town i like to talk aout half because it sopunds so neat to say mishawaka, and half because i fouund my py cruiser and azi and a shitload of patience in that small little town. mishawaka, the indian princess mishawaka, mishawaka mishawaka mishawaka, ill be back. that's ll for now, but here's to keeping up the post discipline right? here's to, here's to
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