Postcard verso:
Along the open grass
with two eyes I see
Everything I want,
Everything I could be.
The smog flies in the
air, clouding the
breeze. The open grass
is dying but it’s waiting
on me. The trees blow
and whistle, in the winter
breeze. I wish it did
something, to calm all
my anxieties. on the needle’s
edge, is how the grass makes me
feel. The sun’s bright light is the
only thing that’s real. The
always tell me, it’s your divine
plan. Yet I can’t remove myself
from his hands. Along the open grass,
with 2 eyes I see, Everything I
want, everything I can’t be.
