belle2007–2002 |
dada2002–1999 |
sundance1999–1997 |
frere1997–1995 |
julian1995–1994 |
stone1994–1993 |
21 April 1997
Fire is such a small and pretty word
which blatantly fails to communicate
the intense pain of the flames
enveloping me and the wooden pole
to which I am tied.
Tight is also a small though harder word
yet is rather unapt in describing
the convulsions in my stomach as I
watch the glowing cinders
sadistically massage my feet.
Faith is a very small and simple word
that only awkwardly explains
the presence of the three angels
who came down to save me from
the heat and the torment and the death
of being burned at the stake.
Copyright © 1997 Charles Fry
forgotten memories of being burned at the stake sweet dreams sharing hand-in-hand the stranger hidden courtyards holding You princess happy day loneliness fragile, handle with care my small trip to the cement factory dedication this record is for You the day that I cried Last night I woke up under my bed. my silver Dancing shoes Man my heart tears. the three things strait jackeght like you abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz Fire cooks me Princess Alexandra: A Little Story cats up cat twice sweet rain water little children my heart How blind I am in wooden glasses. I know she's crying cause it stains her voice, Dear Family, I pound at my heart We run away from the ice cream truck purple sunset J. Elephant so i walk up to you with this the Soul queen so, you say that i do not speak window dear sweet old Ordinary i am a Harp