Sara Lane

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I am youth of America. Young and fresh, hip and cool.
sometimes spoiled but never fooled.

I am sometimes typical and loud and rude.
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When it rains, it pours someone always says.

Rain brings back plants from the dead.
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My violin and me.Happy as a bee, working together in peace and harmony.My relationship with it is love and hate but the music we make is great. I hold it with a tender touch.

It's brown color and eight- shaped figure rest on my shoulder.
It's long elegent bow lightly strokes the strings.A beautiful meledy plays sweet as honey!
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It hit me like a ton of bricks breaking my head in. We've hit rock bottom.

I don't get along with you and you don't get along with me.
What happened? I just don't get it? it's outrageous!
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I planted a seed and left it there.

I passed it day by day and did not care.
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In one season I'am here and in another season I'am gone.

In one season I'am honest and in another I'am distrustful.
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YOU SCREAM!

Are you serious? That's a difficult question, close your eyes and count to ten because you need to take yourself seriously. Understand?
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I am a ghost in your world. Feeling me there but my existist is non evident. My voice is the wind and my body is the air.

My clothes are transparent never putting on a show and when I walk by all you feel is my invisible flow.
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Lets dance and move in the waves of sound, where my spontenous soul is found.

Lets hold hands when the beat is slow and when the beat speeds up the faster we'll go.
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