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On islands where sea-salt breezes blow, And purple tropic flowers grow, And trees are laden with coconuts, On islands where sunrays seldom touch.   Volcanoes erupt and spout with glee,
On my own little island, there is little means of escape I sit alone, on my nearly treeless home in the middle of a delta My only neighbor, hardly acknowledges that I am even there
What I need is meaning, on an island or in a meeting. The purpose behind my actions, guides my movements and reactions.   Without appreciation or audience,
If I twas stranded on a island there is one thing I would absolutley need to have. And that would be my goggles. Yes this one simple item would have to go in my survival bag. Although goggles might not even pass through anyone's mind.
Beast of the drum. Songs to hum. Songs to last, memories that pass. Sunny skies, waves passing by. Blistering heat brings a tear to my eye. Sorry I cannot stay, Stray, Runaway.
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