You're growing up. And rain sort of remains on the branches of a tree that will someday rule the Earth. And it's good that there is rain. It clears the month of your sorry rainbow expressions, and it clears the streets of the silent armies... so we can dance.
Little kids shoot marbles
where the branches break the sun
into graceful shafts of light . . .
I just want to be pure
These are just thoughts here and there
theres more to it in my shitty mind
