"They don't think I know a butt-load of crap about the gospel, but I doooo."
Nacho

Hey old man
are you sleeping?
I don't want to wake you
can I get you anything?
a blanket to keep you warm?
I want you to be content
I'll keep quiet
and I'll let you sleep while I do want I want
but I thought I'd let you know about something I would like
could you float me a little before you nod off?

Hey old man
do you feel that?
the ground is shaking
is that thunder I hear?
did you see that lightning flash?
calm down old man
this is no state for you to be in
it's not safe
somebody might get hurt
I wanted something from you
but now I just want out alive

Hey old man
Hey earthquake
Hey holy fire

I passed an autumn tree with bright yellow leaves on Stewart Street today.
It dazzled my eyes like sunlight bursting through gray clouds.
And the tree seemed to take great pleasure in its beauty.

I thought of turning my car around
and plucking a yellow leaf
taking it home
and looking it up in a reference book on trees
to find out the kind of tree it is
and to plant one in front of my house along my street.

I wrote a poem about the tree and it's bright yellow leaves.
A poem never written down and soon forgotten.

I passed that tree twice today.
I was on my way to the hospital to visit a glinty eyed old lady
who sit three pews from the back on the left hand side.
She has a heart that only half works
and I thought today might be the day it would stop working altogether.

But it still works and she still lives
and there is a tree on Stewart Street with bright yellow leaves.