Many, many years ago. When this land was young. A lot of our country was covered. By big tall beautiful trees. . And men had to have the trees. To make wood, to build houses.
I'm the sparrow on the roof. I'm the list of everyone I have to lose. I'm the rainbow in the dart. I am who I was and how much I can hurt. . So I will look for you in stories of hurricans.
I read about this baby she got beat up by her dad. She was nine months old and he was a full grown man. She may have been learning how to crawl and he put a fist in her face.
(Rosanne Cash). . That was the summer that followed the spring. The sad anniversary of a thousand old things. I was letting them go. The words of Collette and a strange new perfume.