Your tide evenly rolling to the beach
carrying my thoughts and ideas
telling me to go on
I had stop this before
focused my days to flushing toilets
clearing glasses, mopping floors
and strolling Central's main streets
on Sundays
But able to meet you
didn't feel like a stranger
although I had it under my skin
In your sand lay and sit mixed colors
and so I partake my part too
Here, we are all the same
feeling the sun, killing time
weaving green dreams
For the rest of the day
I commune to you and talk to myself
I am not me
but Dan Brown'angel
Not in mind
the piles of plates I need to wash
when I return.
