Comments about Cotton Smith
I kissed the virgin sky,
I sung to the moon a lullaby,
A summer mourned my lost,
A white frost tossed me to the dead.
Sing to me the song to be sung,
About the moon and the sun,
The way the sky gives up its life,
A long moaning sacrifice,
Oh, but don't you see?
This twisted grasp upon my soul has set me free,
No more agony,
Warmth has touched my silhouette,
Leaving me speaking of the way one can become so dead,
Numb to what this life really is,
So, I'll kiss the virgin sky,
And leave my body tattered across the barren land, ...