The Dweller Blues.
Poem By DAVID GERARDINO
LITTLE man with the crusted knocles,
lift your delakit hands in the air, and
watch the rain fall thru them, just like
sand, just like sand.
LITTLE man with the widen grin, look
behind you, then infront, do you see
some one there, or is it just a ghost.
LITTLE man with the head full of voices,
do you hear your name, and if you do, is
it the one you were born with..
I THINK NOT..................