A Longing For The Dance

I Dance/for The Joy Of Surviving, At The Edge Of The Road.

I Can Hardly Wait For Tomorrow, It Means A New Life For Me Each And Every Day.

Certainly The Modern Poets I Cherish Most Are Disturbing Spirits; They Do Not Come To Coo.

We Have All Been Expelled From The Garden, But The Ones Who Suffer Most In Exile Are Those Who Are Still Permitted To Dream Of Perfection.

Live In The Layers, Not On The Litter.