I started listening to the wolves and the timber, wolves and the timber at night…
I wake in the field with the cold and the lonesome—the moon’s the only face I see
So long, so high….
...Things don’t get solved for nothing and things don’t get better from sitting around.
Nothing's going to get better until you pick up and start.
All words mean less, the more you hear—nothing goes away with more time.
Excuse me, are you lost? Perhaps you would care to visit the site map