Tapioca tundra

by Michael Nesmith Reasoned verse, some prose or rhyme Lose themselves in other times And waiting hopes cast cast silent spells That speak in clouded clues. It cannot be a part of me, For now it's part of you. Careful plays on fields That seems to vanish when they're in between And softly as I walk away In freshly tattered shoe. It cannot be a part of me For now it's part of you. Sunshine, ragtime Blowing in the breeze. Midnight, looks right Standing more at ease. Silhouettes and figures stay Close to what he had to say And one more time the faded dream Is saddened by the news. It cannot be a part of me For now it's part of you. Well, Sunshine, ragtime Blowing in the breeze. Midnight, looks right Standing more at ease.