Pay my taxes,
punch the clock,
Raise my own hell,
don’t do you no harm.
Get off my back man,
take a minute,
Keys in the front door,
A day in the wilderness,
Otherwise, its the bourgeois maze.
Gotta form a plan,
I’d learn to write love songs in Spanish,
Sonnets in Italian,
Haikus in Portugese.
The kindest disposition,
Warm hands, tender lips.
I write love notes in the morning,
Dance all evening,
And sing until my voice has gone.
The night is young, this moment’s fleeting,
We roam the city while its sleeping.
I’ll brave the cold, the rain,
Climb cliffs to sit hand in hand,
Hearts open, love flowing.
naked in the woods we lie,
quiet and unafraid;
power doesn’t always rest with those who speak the loudest.
you see the world through obscured lenses,
dying for your recompenses;
you can’t change others, you can only change yourself.
burn away those expectations,
or you’ll burn yourself out quick enough.
(Tom Pearce, Photographed by: Yours Truly)
Curiosity gets the better of us, a barbed fence away and we’re hand in hand running out in the open,
Plains melting into the rockformations, feet melting into the plains.
Bees nests, prickly grass, snake holes, and not much else for miles,
Untouched by greed and unnecessary cruelty,