sounds like an inviation   burning with elation left unsigned   no sign, path, yard or station   no minless recreation to unwind   though she gives no direction    but only asks protection from herself   Her love sprung from afection    turns into blind aggression       No telegram no message home   no body speaks no one to phone   her path is the other past unknown   but when its light shes gone      my expiring subscription   to her dated amunition comes to mind   you reflex my condition   a hopeless disposition of our time   no progressive action, no other used contraption   tell me why   A senseable conection   releaves me from perfection      No telegram no message home   no body speaks no one to phone   her path is the other past unknown   but when its light shes gone