© MSK 6-13-11 from notes on 3-7-93
From the middle, each end is far away
Somewhere in-between, we learn how to pray.
In every story there is a hint of truth
Behind every lie is a mountain of proof.
It’s always during the cold lonely nights
That you find out what you’re missing.
I am missing you.
If you think of leaving or sticking around
It’s better to know what lives underground.

