Quims with identity.Sleepless fathoms over a life not lived in squanderings of the Lower middle class.
Even there from where I was, I was not.
Even here where I lay I am also in wanting. May I find a hole in the Lords sweet and lowly home.
Heavens loft can wait.
As I would like a minute in the streets of my youth, in the tree where I was quite and the fanatical mess of the schoolyard.
Lord give me rest as the World will just not.