74. let it fly
where troubles melt like lemon drops way above the chimney tops that's where you'll find
a poem to be read at the counter of a pub in the inner sunset cradled in a bob dylan book named after a hairy spider simply being a young man in the usa approachable, mysterious, and free
free, like a wish and a prayer sent bent down on your knees during a ceremony of foreign words the only familiar ones meaning heaven, the light from up above
and if you can see light from above it must be dark down there, down here, i know but where it's dark there is no shadow so take your pick today