Wings

We returned to the woods from a three-day journey
through the dizzy land of the casino.
Todays a Saturday morning resurrection.

Somewhere in my family DNA, a Christian
sings the Sermon on the Mount,
the only words in the Book that matter.

Across the web, Mozart thrills anyone who needs,
who dares to listen. In every note, he sacrificed his life,
as if he had no cares about legacy.

Little Billie watches me with pensive, smiling eyes.
I have her photo on my wall to help me keep my head
out of the sand.

Admit it, Tommy, your dreams when you fly without wings
come true when you love. Nothing else in this world
brings you such exhilaration.