1/20/75

The two tree's open a door where he forever sleeps
I knelt down and cleared off his face to the world he
never knew in the mirror we may have looked the same
but in opportunity his was soon to fade is he my ever
reminding concoeous keeping me from the gray i often
f**k up and step into the wrong with the sunrise he presses
play and on goes the sad song I can't handle the Paine
of being alive so maybe it should be me in a box on my
back looking to the sky.