Imagine my rusty bones
scattered in the dust,
drying under the red fire of the sun,
your eyes so pale they are almost white.
You and me;
life, dice loaded from the start;
birth, scrounging for change,
scraping, when it was then.
I will love you until I die;
you and me
meandering through the glass of living.
Blue on blue, our sky, our sea.
Remaining the same;
choosing to win;
our soul, our best friend,
slipping away someday.
The way to be happy is to make others happy
Wade Harold Johnson