Garageband

Now I'm back in the atmosphere, with drops of jupiter in my hair.
I act like summer, walks like rain, knowing that there's a time to change.
Since the return from my stay on the moon, I listen like spring and talk like June.

I sailed across the sun,
And I made it to the milky way to see the lights are faded, and that heaven is overrated,
I fell for a shooting star, but he had a permanant scar.
And I missed you while I was looking for myself out there.

Now I'm back from my soul vacation, tracing my way through the contellations.
I'll checkout Mozart while I do tae-bo, learning that there's room to grow.
Now that I'm back in the atmosphere I don't worry about seeing you as,
plain ol' Jane, I'd tell the story of a man who forgot his fear of flying in the face of the promised land.

The wind swept me off my feet, and I danced along the light of head.
Head back to the milky way,
Where venus blew my mind and it was everything I wanted to find.
And yes I missed you while I was looking for myself out there.

And I remembered love, pride, deep fried chicken, my best friend always sticking up for me (even when you know I'm wrong), and I remembered my first dance, freeze-dried romance, our five hour phone conversations, the best soy latte that I've ever had... and you.

And I'll let you know, that the wind swept me off my feet, and I finally got the chance to dance along the light of day, and head back to the milkey way.
And I'll tell you, that venus blew my mind and it was everything I wanted to find, but then I missed you when I was looking for myself out there.

I fell for a shooting star.

And I was never lonely while I was out there.
But I'm back, and I'll take you with me.

Off Ling's blog. I just couldn't resist:

hannah
adj. carrying a friend.
"I wish my man was hannah."

Oh you bet your sweet ass he was.

http://www.thesurrealist.co.uk/slang.cgi

I'm blogging on my new macbook.
Spiffy.

In othernews, a lot might change wrt my plans for the next 6 months or so. A LOT.
But I am in no position or health to expound on the intricate matters of my identity and sociological composition.

Surfice it to say, that I have a good God who is wildly dangerous, and who's goodness rages on.

I want your heart.