I Always Try To Give My Songs

Wealthy The Spirit That Knows Its Own Flight. Stealthy The Hunter Who Slays His Own Fright. Blessed The Traveler Who Journeys The Length Of The Light

The Outlet For My Sorrow, That I Do Feel Deeply, And The Pain, Is The Songs. That's Where It Goes.

He Earned His Love Through Discipline, A Thundering Velvet Hand, His Gentle Means Of Sculpting Souls Took Me Years To Understand.

I Was Blessed With A Gift. It's A Gift And A Curse. It Never Ends

It's Only An Interim Trip. I Love The Music, But It's Really Giving Me A Way In Which I Can Comfortably Explore My Art.