It is one of those nights when it is all you can think of. But not a single one of that damned species would find its way ... my fingers twitch in want, mind does a somersault now and then.. but it eludes still.. the inspiration and the appetite - yes, the 'word'. The thirst is beautiful but you want to have more.. you begin strumming the chords knowing not where it will go but you will stop not, for to stop would be to give up the chase...
tonight the lips shall yearn to burn, the throat it may run dry..
the mind be swathe in thirst yet, not a single drop will comply
the mind be swathe in thirst yet, not a single drop will comply
