[b]Leonard Cohen
My page was too white
My ink was too thin
The day wouldn’t write
What the night pencilled in[/b]
Works that way here too. Only the technology has changed.
The blizzard of the world has crossed the threshold and it’s overturned the order of the soul.
On the other hand, for most of us, how hard is that.
I couldn’t feel so I learned to touch.
For me that comes naturally. But point taken.
I’ve often said if I knew where the good songs came from, I’d go there more often.
Though few have been there more often than him.
I found that things became a lot easier when I no longer expected to win. You abandon your masterpiece and sink into the real masterpiece.
So, any real masterpieces here?
Dream after dream we all lie in each other’s arms.
A double entendre if there ever was one.