Running out of Space
There's never enough of anything
to satisfy the wandering mind
Sex, drugs, rock 'n roll
herbal, chemical or alcohol;
a million ways to sell your soul.

Bungy jumping from one tall time
to the bottomless black
Something inside roaring
I want to roar back.

The sound of a wild blues guitar
assailing the moon
Everything I dreamed of
Come and gone so soon.

We're not as bad as we like to think
or as good at the other extreme.
Caught between flesh and dreams: >>