I paint hills with my hips and stroke the edges of the sky with a heavy sigh.
I use a storm of words to blend the red soil of childhood dreams
And hope the winds purify the forbidden streams
Streams of minds in illusive vertigo
I squeeze the feeling out of a tube of indigo
And evoke depth through lustrous streaks of infinity
In silence the truth is communicated telepathically.
My body follows the creative flow of my intuition
And for you I’ll paint a harmonious composition
For you…I’ll paint hills with my hips.