Hare Krishna    Hare Krishna Krishna Krishna    Hare Hare

Hare Rama    Hare Rama Rama Rama    Hare Hare fuck

your accordion.        There are marigolds and rich sadnesses.

I’m crying on 5th Avenue    thank you  it’s raining   but just

a little bit    bright blood on a bright hot day.    There is no

great mystery.        Music comes from cars.        God comes

from books.        Love comes from paper.        Hare hare.