Dance in the field of poppys,
no shoes on, just a smile,
the only defense you have against the world
is SPF 45 sunscreen on your creamy pale skin...

An army of hair tries to penetrate the skin of the
Angel of April...

But no one is ready to accept that maybe she can save the
world,
the world of a lost soul that rummages along the junk
of the world's biggest garage sale...

I run to your place in the field, below that darkened tower,
and run my hands into the army that tries so desperatly
to run itself into you, and I want to love you...

'an army of hair'
oh! very nice expression
supani

Great stuff, Misty.

Delightfully mind-blowing.

Love,

+Stevie

Thank you Steven..

misty..