TAME ME DOWN SOME
I just got back from Carbondale, riding along
Route 6; I've seen the monstrous windvanes on
the ridge. They paddle the air in a strange and
distant silence, bringing things of indeterminate
nature to others who say it's there. I do not
like these precious items; strange and scouring,
they've been put in place by scoundrels, cutting
roads on high through ridge and range just so
they can make their coffees and teas. It seems
deranged to me. It seems those who worry
so about their 'God' should worry as much
about what they do to the this world
'God' supposedly made for them.
'God' supposedly made for them.
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