David Crosby. . How am I going to explain it to him. What am I going to say when it's something that grim. How the hell do you tell them there comes an end.
Crosby/Stills/Nash Delta written by David Crosby. Waking stream of consciousness. On a sleeping street of dream. Thoughts like scattered leaves. Slowed in midfall to the streams.
Waking stream of consciousness. On a sleeping street of dream. Thoughts like scattered leaves. Slowed in mid fall into the streams. . Of fast running rivers of choice and chance.
Now some small parts seem right scattered here and there. One smiling face in a crowd that's angry and scared. Can't seem to see where it doesn't get worse.