Sounds like an inviation Burning with elation left unsigned No sign, path, yard or station No minless recreation to unwind Though she gives no direction But only asks protection from herself Her love sprung from afection Turns into blind aggression No telegram no message home No body speaks no one to phone Her path is the other past unknown But when its light shes gone My expiring subscription To her dated amunition comes to mind You reflex my condition A hopeless disposition of our time No progressive action, no other used contraption Tell me why A senseable conection Releaves me from perfection No telegram no message home No body speaks no one to phone Her path is the other past unknown But when its light shes gone