Inside, just for a song

I've found my first few nights outside to be pleasant. The sound when I lay down to sleep after journaling is bliss. The far sounds of a mechanical society rolling over crushed, lifeless asphalt drone in the distance down the mountain from me; the lights, in their bizarre yellowish tinge, like an unhealthy mouth of teeth, thankfully displaced from me, too. Today, as I sit in my former apartment drinking a cup of coffee and gathering the last of my frozen or cold food items for transport to my tent home, I appreciate a song by Jethro Tull that came on my music shuffle:

All the places I've been make it hard to begin
to enjoy life again on the inside,
but I mean to.
Take a walk around the block
and be glad that I've got me some time
to be in from the outside,
and inside with you.

I'm sitting on the corner feeling glad.
Got no money coming in but I can't be sad.
That was the best cup of coffee I ever had.
And I won't worry about a thing
because we've got it made,
here on the inside, outside so far away.

And we'll laugh and we'll sing
get someone to bring our friends here
for tea in the evening --
Old Jeffrey makes three.
Take a walk in the park,
does the wind in the dark
sound like music to you?
Well I'm thinking it does to me.

Can you cook, can you sew --
well, I don't want to know.
That is not what you need on the inside,
to make the time go.

Counting lambs, counting sheep
we will fall into sleep
and we awake to a new day of living
and loving you so.

Happy Saturday to you in your own enjoyment of life,

Alan 

a tent home amongst the Aspens and scrub brush of the high Rockies after a fresh overnight snow