buying our first houseMichelle insisted wehave a third bedroommy work desk hasalways been in theliving room along withall my clutternow I have my own officewhere only my catcomes in uninvited
I like this, Thomas. Funny twist about your cat :)
In the basement at sixtythird Street, I sat on that old red couch.With guitar in my lap, I sang song after song. Tears flowed in rhythm staining the wood.Then "Lark" came along, and solitude became four . Our brief college Camelot.
Upstairs squattingin abandoned shelterPeeking through the boards looking outfor unwanted visitorsThen a young man wanderingpeered through his own setof slats across away in thedistance, eyes looking and meeting as each of us spy Afraid of danger of strange encounter catching the otherpeeking through the slatsOnly to ignore the visitorand go back to reading thethick book until the sunset ruining the sanctuaryas darkness peered throughmaking the day end
I have my own room, it is mine.I have my own bed, it is mine.I have a small cassette player with headphones, blue foam covers, not a real Walkman, but it is mine.I have my tapes, and I have time.