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Glory Be, The Funk Is Not On Me before/after Pegasi songs swing sing song low lull through the night. Beckoned by the full moon. Wander weary lost. Soul born. Born? Born to run. Fast. Hard. Short. Death in an envelope, past the envelope, push it, push it hard. Blossoms dying in the twilight wind, flowers rent, sent to begin the cycle again. Knowing only bliss, as seems only flowers know, rent or unrent, paid rent with flimsy flower souls. The jangling kiss that stirs hearts and souls, the thunder that splits the night. The warm patter of cool rain. Sleeping in a cave of blankets, safe in grandma's love.
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