From: ssamgree@NObigSPAMpond.net.au   
      
   My love doesn't bring me flowers? Only bills to pay for the pedal mess. With   
   the tears to match this feeling of what's in the heart. The roses sing   
   outside my window. Growing just like other wild flowers in the garden. By   
   the thought of watching time. What's gone has gone.  It touches as travel,   
   on all to the feeling, of walking, of long flights. Over land and overseas.   
   As the seeds blown, to my door. This city, that moves. As seasons change, in   
   reflection. Just a man cries, what are you crying about? You who write these   
   words on a page, with little understand or meaning. What has gone we can't   
   change? But change itself.   
      
   Build on what is left. This feeling within. To make better. Flowing on do   
   better. A page as a call, to think. Next time I will try better. I will try   
   the sliming milk Here I am. Over weight with no where to run. Just as   
   thought through the fields of hope, as cow batches on the run of life. Can   
   catch us all. Like thinking it's a head cold or the flu. Or time for my   
   chicken soup again. One cup or two. Tomorrow will be another day. And still   
   the bills do rise. It's a new dawn.   
      
   Kind Regards,   
      
   Sam www.MrMusicman.com   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)