stoned at heart at this very place i stand, i question the beauty unbeknownst to my existence was such thing created for a purpose? perhaps, it's for me to find out in the long run -sooner or later-. *cruelty it is —my own mind has lived for* so i speak once again: "stoned at heart at this very place i stand" ... i lay and let the green do its consumption, at least this time, i'm forever looking up with one thought that would linger for eternity: "the only thing that will ever weep for me, it shall be, the willow tree"