tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10603013219577289672024-03-13T09:47:50.328-07:00blog by : macminnA musician and performer shares his thoughts, rants, poetic ramblings and musical pursuits.music by : macminnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04356178309652478116noreply@blogger.comBlogger61125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060301321957728967.post-14348425668964416262015-05-19T17:07:00.000-07:002015-05-19T17:07:13.018-07:00With Relief <u>With Relief</u><br />
<br />
Each windy waking night<br />
I rouse and retire<br />
<br />
the years grow around me<br />
the time tucks me in<br />
only to,<br />
cautiously tell me to be alert<br />
over and over again<br />
<br />
the pendulum of pace<br />
the irony of the earnest<br />
and the cracks in the eyes of the observer<br />
those tell-tale lips<br />
that tell no more<br />
<br />
the notion of that old story<br />
new now, will be old again<br />
<br />
you know how this ends<br />
<br />
why speak it<br />
<br />
live it with a sense of relief<br />
<br />
<br />
By: M. MacMinn<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.markmacminn.com/">www.markmacminn.com</a><br />
<br />music by : macminnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04356178309652478116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060301321957728967.post-12989844457704653422015-04-17T17:29:00.000-07:002015-04-17T17:29:12.303-07:00Ghosts of the Future<u>Ghosts of the Future</u><br />
<br />
Times seem simple now<br />
easy, blissful, restrained<br />
early evenings<br />
time with friends<br />
balanced moments<br />
focused and tame<br />
<br />
stories of past<br />
creep into the present<br />
as new friends turn<br />
to old<br />
<br />
ghosts of the future<br />
somber and silent<br />
each day a quest<br />
with a goal<br />
<br />
We are all so aware<br />
as energy brings us together<br />
We all are defined<br />
empowered altogether<br />
<br />
<br />
By: M. MacMinn<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.markmacminn.com/">www.markmacminn.com</a><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />music by : macminnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04356178309652478116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060301321957728967.post-27342551674633186652015-02-22T14:21:00.000-08:002015-02-22T14:21:26.994-08:00Downloads<u>Downloads</u><br />
<br />
By: M. MacMinn<br />
<br />
We can do it<br />
wake up the world,<br />
Wake up<br />
<br />
It's not with a feel good folk movement<br />
It's with a scolding, with disappointment<br />
<br />
You are an inferior child<br />
doused in privilege<br />
spray tanned and sullen<br />
<br />
You require endless delusion<br />
bottomless mimosas<br />
and Superbowl Sundays, everyday<br />
<br />
You are forgotten to yourself<br />
a creature of gloss and magazines<br />
Pop culture and Pepsi-cola<br />
endless emptiness<br />
and porn downloads<br />
<br />
So we're listening<br />
what words do we see<br />
<br />
There is a structure and a scent to the color<br />
a feel to the lo-glow of the candles burning<br />
<br />
The chant of the songwriter<br />
the antics of the company<br />
and the PSA of sorrow<br />
<br />
The hidden humanity<br />
concealed from us all<br />
the strangers of suffering<br />
the celebrators of static<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.markmacminn.com/">www.markmacminn.com</a><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />music by : macminnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04356178309652478116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060301321957728967.post-57143035441303734272015-02-15T12:36:00.000-08:002015-02-15T12:36:11.302-08:00Note. 3 <u>Note. 3</u><br />
<br />
by: M. MacMinn<br />
<br />
<br />
Anxious, worked up, severed<br />
<br />
scribbling in the dark of the shaking light<br />
abrupt flashes of security and hope<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.markmacminn.com/">www.markmacminn.com</a><br />
<br />music by : macminnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04356178309652478116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060301321957728967.post-79249285764442532432015-01-18T20:53:00.000-08:002015-01-18T20:53:34.583-08:00Tied Bows<u>Tied Bows</u><br />
<br />
By: M. MacMinn<br />
<br />
She walks in smooth and casual strokes<br />
her beauty slicing the air<br />
she seems like a dream, dancing through tied bows<br />
that hidden child that knows too much<br />
to let her sadness show<br />
<br />
When time has come to cast away<br />
the age old beauty's grown<br />
more days have come and light has dawned<br />
shouting days to weeks to months to years<br />
in decades, and centuries collapse<br />
<br />
Rebirth, awake and lapse<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.markmacminn.com/">www.markmacminn.com</a><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />music by : macminnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04356178309652478116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060301321957728967.post-77056047490043440522015-01-04T23:20:00.000-08:002015-01-04T23:20:17.976-08:00The Road to Tennessee<u>The Road to Tennessee</u><br />
<br />
By: M. MacMinn<br />
<br />
<br />
There is a special silence in the south<br />
<br />
It's embracing, like a snug hug,<br />
warm and comforting.<br />
<br />
It's in the air<br />
<br />
It's also stern,<br />
impending and harsh<br />
Raw and natural<br />
on every given day<br />
<br />
You can bask in it<br />
and hide from it<br />
all at once<br />
<br />
Vast, open and slow<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.markmacminn.com/">www.markmacminn.com</a><br />
<br />music by : macminnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04356178309652478116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060301321957728967.post-41016537412643747392014-12-21T18:54:00.000-08:002014-12-21T18:54:21.827-08:00Demands<u>Demands</u><br />
<br />
By: M. MacMinn<br />
<br />
I'd chosen to run<br />
just as far as I could<br />
to block out or muffle<br />
each attempt at words<br />
<br />
to protect and comfort<br />
only myself<br />
while carrying the torch<br />
seasoned in help<br />
<br />
I've held it so long<br />
it's burning my hands<br />
scorching my breath<br />
and clouding my plans<br />
<br />
A soul left forgotten<br />
lying in bed<br />
passing back and forth<br />
lost in my head<br />
<br />
I listen, intently<br />
at attention I stand<br />
in fear and silence<br />
I'll bend on demand<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.markmacminn.com/">www.markmacminn.com</a><br />
<br />
<br />music by : macminnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04356178309652478116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060301321957728967.post-36637926357108764172014-12-14T17:02:00.000-08:002014-12-14T17:02:25.118-08:00Silent Pictures<u>Silent Pictures</u><br />
<br />
By: M. MacMinn<br />
<br />
<br />
Silent pictures<br />
we sneak, we watch, we draw<br />
Your victim doesn't know they are a picture<br />
your picture<br />
As you are unaware that you are words<br />
<br />
Sleek and smooth<br />
observant and unknowing<br />
take off<br />
<br />
Now we fly<br />
<br />
Your eyes are quicker than my own<br />
For mine linger and watch<br />
Resting behind you<br />
I wonder if you feel these looks<br />
<br />
We are flying<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.markmacminn.com/">www.markmacminn.com</a>music by : macminnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04356178309652478116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060301321957728967.post-60452923009272441532014-11-30T19:59:00.000-08:002014-11-30T19:59:46.483-08:00Unable To Say Why<u>Unable to Say Why</u><br />
<br />
By: M. MacMinn<br />
<br />
My eyes are not open<br />
My mind, not switched on<br />
My body, draped with clothing<br />
My belly, full with breakfast<br />
My thoughts are fluttered from the night before<br />
<br />
How such fun turned so poorly upon confession<br />
A notion hard to hear<br />
playfulness forgotten and left<br />
as quickly as it began<br />
<br />
Absent in the daylight<br />
vanished in the shine of a beautiful day<br />
The air as cool as my heart<br />
The street as empty as my compassion<br />
and just as unable to explain<br />
<br />
You are thinking about this incorrectly<br />
though, I am unable to say why<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.markmacminn.com/">www.markmacminn.com</a><br />
<br />music by : macminnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04356178309652478116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060301321957728967.post-63545288884620392672014-11-23T14:27:00.000-08:002014-11-23T14:27:40.966-08:00Uncommon Treasures<u>Uncommon Treasures</u><br />
<br />
By: M. MacMinn<br />
<br />
Wind chimes baby<br />
bringing us home,<br />
with a twinkle in the wind<br />
<br />
it's unworldly, it's hopefully,<br />
it's without monetary value<br />
it's timeless, limitless, sacred<br />
<br />
It's like reindeer on Christmas<br />
and rabbits on Easter<br />
pointless, beside the point,<br />
everything, the meaning itself<br />
<br />
Russian roulette in reverse<br />
substance and shortcake<br />
strawberry ribbons on bow wrapped presents<br />
stockings full of heavenly garbage,<br />
tasty to consume<br />
<br />
wet panties on whiskers,<br />
during a sunny afternoon<br />
Butterscotch to fancy<br />
Lemonade on ice<br />
Peach cobbler for breakfast<br />
and sundaes at night<br />
<br />
smokes on top of mountains<br />
valley's full of dew<br />
pleasantries in moments<br />
moments all too few<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.markmacminn.com/">www.markmacminn.com</a><br />
<br />
<br />music by : macminnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04356178309652478116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060301321957728967.post-38007035895798485712014-11-16T12:05:00.000-08:002014-11-16T12:05:32.989-08:00Puddles <u>Puddles</u><br />
<br />
By: M. MacMinn<br />
<br />
<br />
So much has been about the celebration<br />
the party, the drink, the pussy, the distortion<br />
The self-fulfilling puddle of pleasure<br />
<br />
The denial of work<br />
the pursuit of pursuing<br />
<br />
The bitter pill of failure<br />
the late blooming eyes<br />
of unfolding misfortune<br />
<br />
The acceptance<br />
and Buddha-like moments<br />
in the span of a cigarette<br />
<br />
The lack of change<br />
and expectation of<br />
<br />
Wanting to be seen as more<br />
than presented<br />
<br />
Consuming to consume<br />
following the leader<br />
<br />
The lost idea of self<br />
the false identity<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.markmacminn.com/">www.markmacminn.com</a><br />
<br />
<br />music by : macminnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04356178309652478116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060301321957728967.post-67366430643968260972014-11-09T18:35:00.000-08:002014-11-09T18:35:12.309-08:00I'm Here <u>I'm Here</u><br />
<br />
By: M. MacMinn<br />
<br />
<br />
the rain is calming<br />
open air is warm on the porch<br />
gutters are trickling droplets<br />
a fire burns between my fingers,<br />
upon my lips and in my lungs<br />
water is cool, not cold<br />
waiting in a glass, close in reach<br />
time is still<br />
the night finds peace<br />
<br />
tension twists down my spine<br />
struggling to be content<br />
safe, secure, relatively without worry<br />
but stiff, stern<br />
conditioning dreams<br />
denying sleep<br />
<br />
posture is tense, anticipating<br />
nothing is coming<br />
except the train whistle in the distance<br />
so near, it can't be seen<br />
flinching, I'll gaze<br />
taking more in<br />
<br />
tired<br />
just tired<br />
it's been a long day<br />
it's difficult to recall<br />
all that's been done<br />
but it's done<br />
this day<br />
it's over, work was done<br />
and also some play<br />
<br />
that time on the bed<br />
wet and smooth<br />
beers in the mouth<br />
with tongues on each other<br />
what a quenching release<br />
thank you<br />
though that too<br />
is done<br />
<br />
hunting for magic<br />
but it's not always there<br />
I'll look again tomorrow<br />
and each day that<br />
I'm here<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.markmacminn.com/">www.markmacminn.com</a><br />
<br />
<br />music by : macminnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04356178309652478116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060301321957728967.post-65769069050797586052014-11-02T11:45:00.000-08:002014-11-02T11:45:08.884-08:00Tongues<u>Tongues</u><br />
<br />
By: M. MacMinn<br />
<br />
Where is your heart<br />
at home, on the stage<br />
<br />
Who sees your beauty<br />
with the value of days<br />
<br />
As you breathe air<br />
fast and asleep<br />
<br />
Or drinking in water<br />
while eyes open, repeat<br />
<br />
I'll tell you a joke<br />
on your grave, where you lay<br />
<br />
Fashion is frugal<br />
on tongues you shall stay<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.markmacminn.com/">www.markmacminn.com</a><br />
<br />
<br />music by : macminnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04356178309652478116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060301321957728967.post-50976258662873628802014-10-26T12:44:00.000-07:002014-10-26T12:44:51.273-07:00Withering<u>Withering</u><br />
<br />
By: M. MacMinn<br />
<br />
<br />
It's a wonder you survived this long<br />
circumstances temperamental, then each is gone<br />
<br />
Back to breathing dirty air<br />
anxious emotions, confidently scared<br />
<br />
Proud and stubborn, burdened by thoughts<br />
selfish and empty, security bought<br />
<br />
It's all for the moment, it's all for the line<br />
It's all for a dream, withering in time<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.markmacminn.com/">www.markmacminn.com</a><br />
<br />music by : macminnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04356178309652478116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060301321957728967.post-53569557840744030042014-10-12T19:08:00.000-07:002014-10-12T19:08:00.626-07:00Moments with the Angel<u>Moments with the Angel</u><br />
<u><br /></u>
By: M. MacMinn<br />
<br />
<br />
She walks<br />
so unknowing of my gaze<br />
<br />
Maybe she knows of it too much<br />
turning it into every other look<br />
she has ever received<br />
<br />
signed off, silent<br />
clocked out<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.markmacminn.com/">www.markmacminn.com</a><br />
<br />music by : macminnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04356178309652478116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060301321957728967.post-83587020831511250602014-10-07T15:06:00.000-07:002014-10-07T15:06:06.424-07:00A Folkslinger Tale<u>A Folkslinger Tale</u><br />
<u><br /></u>
By: M. MacMinn<br />
<br />
the new voice will howl<br />
with the old voices song<br />
<br />
the silence, shallow<br />
with crest's that sing long<br />
<br />
power and presence<br />
easily attained<br />
<br />
pulling each story<br />
threads from veins<br />
<br />
the emptiness is barren<br />
the treasures are rich<br />
<br />
in each glint a glisten<br />
each shimmer a speech<br />
<br />
with bellows of resin<br />
an absence that speaks<br />
<br />
every pebble in the ocean<br />
will lie on the beach<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.markmacminn.com/">www.markmacminn.com</a><br />
<br />
<br />music by : macminnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04356178309652478116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060301321957728967.post-41218787145071851162014-09-28T16:42:00.000-07:002014-09-28T16:42:58.319-07:00Release<u>Release</u><br />
<u><br /></u>
By: M. MacMinn<br />
<br />
<br />
dank and worn<br />
tossed aside to the floor<br />
soft and salty<br />
forgotten frills, frayed lace<br />
<br />
cupping them to my nose<br />
breathing you in<br />
learning the intimate you<br />
<br />
in the shadows, I pulse<br />
I stroke, I grow<br />
<br />
I smell you, holding myself<br />
in the secret security of solitude<br />
I imagine myself upon you<br />
pretending to know you<br />
<br />
I release<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.markmacminn.com/">www.markmacminn.com</a><br />
<br />
<br />music by : macminnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04356178309652478116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060301321957728967.post-69739806588804135842014-09-21T07:40:00.000-07:002014-09-21T07:40:26.042-07:00Trucks & Beach<u>Trucks & Beach</u><br />
<br />
<br />
By: M. MacMinn<br />
<br />
<br />
Half dead<br />
on a darkened sand beach<br />
An empty Peninsula<br />
seagulls, eye-balling me<br />
<br />
Salt, in the air, in the breath<br />
a soothing smell like a California sun<br />
<br />
Looking for wisdom<br />
realizing it is everywhere<br />
and nowhere<br />
<br />
Like a breeze in the air<br />
and the surf on the sand<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.markmacminn.com/">www.markmacminn.com</a><br />
<br />
<br />music by : macminnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04356178309652478116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060301321957728967.post-3411752793447830582014-09-14T12:22:00.000-07:002014-09-14T12:22:25.993-07:00Solace<u>Solace</u><br />
<u><br /></u>
By: M. MacMinn<br />
<br />
<br />
I want you to be one of my stories<br />
possibly the one that doesn't end<br />
The one erected like a building<br />
with a thousand windows to let light in<br />
<br />
The one that feels most like home<br />
that grows denser by the day<br />
The one that shaped the city's skyline<br />
and devastate the world if it fell away<br />
<br />
I want it to be decorated by the sun<br />
and illuminated by the night<br />
I want it to stand still in time and space<br />
and hold the beauty of my life<br />
<br />
I want it to be as simple as you<br />
with all the mystery you contain<br />
Holding me sweetly, softly secure<br />
pressing solace in my vein<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.markmacminn.com/">www.markmacminn.com</a><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />music by : macminnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04356178309652478116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060301321957728967.post-69442635134589492702014-09-07T18:10:00.000-07:002014-09-07T18:10:18.689-07:00A Letter to Metro<u>A Letter to Metro</u><br />
<br />
By: M. MacMinn<br />
<br />
<br />
The light falls from the roof,<br />
glistens on the brick<br />
and glows on the wood<br />
<br />
It works like magic<br />
attracting the soul<br />
It is the earth<br />
it is whole<br />
<br />
Touching the part that begins<br />
confusing the part that holds<br />
clinging to the picture<br />
<br />
Who is this to me,<br />
and who am I to you?<br />
<br />
A stranger, that appears and reappears<br />
attraction that vanishes<br />
in given days<br />
<br />
Falling into place<br />
lights to brick to wood<br />
separating<br />
<br />
Just a reflection in the window<br />
<br />
You are the other side of the mirror<br />
the part you see and know, unable to touch<br />
<br />
Lost to me<br />
I am lost to you<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.markmacminn.com/">www.markmacminn.com</a><br />
<br />music by : macminnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04356178309652478116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060301321957728967.post-89444730200663519462014-08-31T14:43:00.000-07:002014-08-31T14:43:22.173-07:00Swallowing Mistakes<u>Swallowing Mistakes</u><br />
<br />
<br />
By: M. MacMinn<br />
<br />
<br />
For the fruitless souls<br />
with hungry minds<br />
Building their own legend<br />
filling thoughts with time<br />
<br />
The years may vanish<br />
but the aching lives on<br />
Throwing out fists<br />
filled with barren palms<br />
<br />
Shouting, <i>give me something,</i><br />
<i>I have earned as much</i><br />
<i>Unleash my blessing</i><br />
<i>I'll tear it in lust</i><br />
<br />
I'll grasp it firm<br />
filling it out<br />
stretching with searching<br />
bottoming up<br />
<br />
When is it over<br />
When the air escapes<br />
When the ground opens up<br />
swallowing mistakes<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.markmacminn.com/">www.markmacminn.com</a><br />
<br />
<br />music by : macminnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04356178309652478116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060301321957728967.post-41455234252381505032014-08-24T12:06:00.000-07:002014-08-24T12:06:53.779-07:00Strangers In Bars<u>Strangers In Bars</u><br />
<br />
By: M. MacMinn<br />
<br />
<br />
Some form of madness<br />
a style of strain<br />
Purged in a path of emptiness<br />
filled by cow and pig in my blood<br />
<br />
Each argument loses merit<br />
when actions are involved<br />
A humble path to precision<br />
on an arrogant road unresolved<br />
<br />
You are potentially my lover<br />
the glisten of dew on your thighs<br />
I'll prose to you in matrimony<br />
a wife of the moment<br />
on the phone across the bar<br />
<br />
Be timid and foolish<br />
resign yourself to my arm<br />
A cast-away of emotion<br />
in neon lights you'll go far<br />
<br />
Lost, foolish and young<br />
education is important<br />
pay attention to strangers in bars<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.markmacminn.com/">www.markmacminn.com</a><br />
<br />music by : macminnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04356178309652478116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060301321957728967.post-43103836144128607742014-08-19T18:43:00.000-07:002014-08-19T18:43:04.040-07:00A hopeless America<u>A hopeless America</u><br />
<u><br /></u>
By: M. MacMinn<br />
<br />
<br />
A hopeless America<br />
<br />
resigned to debt<br />
hungry and over-fed<br />
weak and ignorant<br />
blinded by faith<br />
<br />
Taught with broken promises<br />
<br />
buried in fear<br />
answered in violence<br />
taken advantage of<br />
over and over and over<br />
<br />
Intentionally mislead<br />
<br />
mostly for the dollar<br />
and sometimes for the fame<br />
<br />
Suicidal and forgotten<br />
<br />
destroying with each day<br />
damning the dawn<br />
<br />
Forgotten America<br />
<br />
to proud to pretend<br />
the dream has died<br />
<br />
Welcoming the end<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.markmacminn.com/">www.markmacminn.com</a><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />music by : macminnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04356178309652478116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060301321957728967.post-52068391279284758952014-08-10T15:26:00.000-07:002014-08-10T15:28:59.954-07:00The Perfect Voice<u>The Perfect Voice</u><br />
<br />
<br />
By: M. MacMinn<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Finally found a voice<br />
to sing me to sleep<br />
wishing it would<br />
each night<br />
<br />
The body is a stranger<br />
the voice a vessel<br />
commonly beautiful<br />
<br />
The voice is so familiar<br />
you could invite it home<br />
a friend instantly<br />
<br />
A treasure to be secured<br />
as if reaching extinction<br />
and maybe it is<br />
<br />
Tears of fulfillment<br />
tears of solace<br />
perfect tears<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.markmacminn.com/">www.markmacminn.com</a><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />music by : macminnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04356178309652478116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060301321957728967.post-66647225786201217192014-08-03T17:17:00.002-07:002014-08-03T17:17:48.916-07:00To See<u>To See</u><br />
<br />
By: M. MacMinn<br />
<br />
<br />
welcome home<br />
there's a price<br />
short sighted morality<br />
or down grade your life<br />
<br />
everything you want<br />
you can have it right here<br />
it's buried in the freezer<br />
minutes from the meal<br />
<br />
that animal inside<br />
keep him caged up<br />
we can't have you<br />
planting and mounting<br />
surviving on luck<br />
<br />
you've got to think it<br />
plan it<br />
will it to be<br />
find it, nurture it<br />
choose how to share<br />
choose how they see<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.markmacminn.com/">www.markmacminn.com</a><br />
<br />
<br />music by : macminnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04356178309652478116noreply@blogger.com0