Writing to Bauhaus

Havana on ice

Fresh clothes and a spot of gold paint

Whistle with the wind

Left us around the downtown square

I will always drift

Hot sands on Barcelona

Steel string riddle my friends

Swim in the fish

Lean on marshmallow bricks

Fountain drains into my stomach

I am imploding now

The sound of battery town

But a dream

To be green

Toke for you, my love

And let’s pull the stars down

He was the best they ever saw

Not mine but somewhere

Flapping wing

Rain in Rio

Grand tour of the Carnival

Sun stones on her shoulders

To the second party she goes

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