Tuesday, January 22, 2013

All you guitar players
like myself you may be blinded by the sight
of rosewood backs and sides
but remember
it's a crime

Two hundred thousand years we have waited for this moment
The decision is entirely ours
Do we continue the journey of our self discovery
Or are we throwing in the towel?

Twice one hundred thousand summers
adapting all our wiles
to nature and to nurture
to pillage and despoil

When our global village wonders
who has put the lights out
till your garden lightly
think about the bees