my breast pocket is full of moons they rise and fly each morning i stand beside you, we touch crowns and two brothers frame a yellow door they rise and fly each morning where heroes surface like cream and two brothers frame a yellow door in moments perfect - almost here where heroes surface like cream there a muddy track churns red in moments perfect - almost here we douse our lamps to save the night there a muddy track churns red i stand beside you, we touch crowns we douse our lamps to save the night my breast pocket is full of moons
Kinetic Poetry - Subject to change without warning.