Poets need their space
That white fiber paper...

Those raindrops that keep falling
Falling on my head...

I'm one-third to the good
One hundred percent pure...

The silence of the night is broken
By the Dark Voices inside my head...

The road to love
Is paved in trust...

There's not much difference
From sprouting trees or flowering buds...

Don't get caught watching the clock
Because time is really all you've got...

Those pains that's imprisoned
In our heart of hearts...

These thoughts that clown my mind
They put on a circus deep down inside...

A nose knows a rose
Just by smell alone...

The Yellow Moon glistens
As it flickers all about...

If I was a snowflake
I'd have my own season...