IV

“Truth”

The only truth that seems to be,

Is that there are one too many

As a sailor loves the sea

I, the bronze penny

The bronze penny comes in and leaves as he pleases

The hands of the circle spin round and round

The universal hand has a bag of pink teases

Especially in the art of the infinite sound

Many forms, There are many forms

Many rules, there are many rules

Who has the courage to enter the storms?

Who has the courage to represent the fools?

Break through the boundaries and then you become such

The creator lives on and off

For the keyboard is like a mothers touch

All skin is truly soft.