A.C. Newman

Come to me, please, all these years fall through, Through the cracks and now this perfect view, On the upside, both sides win. On the downside, we buy, we pull through, Through the pouring choices rich kids choose, On a landslide, you ride in. Drink

I was a silent partner I found Myself with the rabble that stood on a mound Hipshot thinking but not out loud There are too many prophets here On the upper side of the sound of the dark I took it in silence I took it to heart I carried it quietly ove