In Your Eyes Of Mourning The Land

In Your Eyes Of Mourning The Land Of Dreams Begins.

Why Do Trees Conceal The Splendor Of Their Roots?

You Can Say Anything You Want, Yessir, But It's The Words That Sing, They Soar And Descend...i Bow To Them...i Love Them, I Cling To Them, I Run Them Down, I Bite Into Them, I Melt Them Down...i Love Words So Much...the Unexpected Ones...the Ones I Wait For Greedily Or Stalk Until, Suddenly, They Drop.

Without Doubt I Praise The Wild Excellence.

I Am Made Of Earth, And My Song Made Of Words.