we ride bicycles and buses, and drive gas guzzlers and hybrid cars, trucks with coca-cola logos.e worry for our daughters. we worry for her sons who pierce your ears. we work hard try to pay her medical bills and play the roles we have chosen are that have chosen us. what can we say that has not been set? the notion of no new taxes continues to stifle progress and strangle compassion. the endless war hawks are state. we spend $200,000 every minute to sustain a government in iraq while iraqi officials disappear for month-long vacations. there is no vacation for us. the bridge has collapsed. it's a catastrophe. we are shocked. we pull ourselves together and learn new lines on the front, we become the hometown heroes we will forever revere. later back in her old neighborhood no matter how far up the road we move a thunderstorm is uprooted an ancient tree. nothing stays the same. the old tree staircase above. we pull over to the curb, stop, leap and see against all odds backyard gardens safe insertion. we are lucky to be alive. the sun begins to set. cinnamon liked the seven hills of

we ride bicycles and buses, drive gas guzzlers and hybrid cars, trucks with coca-cola logos.e worry for our daughters the cat to their ankles. we worry for our sons who pierce their ears. we work hard, try to their medical bills, play the roles we have chosen or have chosen us. what can we say that has not been said? the notion of no new taxes continues to stifle progress and strangle compassion. the endless war hawks are stage. we spent $200,000 every minute to sustain a government in iraq, while iraqi officials disappear from month-long vacations. there is no vacation for us. the bridge has collapsed. it is a catastrophe. we are shocked. we pull ourselves together, learn new lines on the run. racraised to help. we become the hometown heroes we will for ever revered. later back in the old neighborhood no matter how far up the hill we move, the old neighborhood is a lifeboat. a thunderstorm has uprooted an ancient tree. nothing stays the same. the old tree barricades the block. we pull over to the curb, stop, weep, and then see against all odds backyard gardens safe and flour