You day her out through a winter of owe... so you can stay your ground in the littles of woe. when one releases themselves to defending their portion
(The No) A skeptic can be grown in no-time from the treated torso of anyone torn in two And in this era of the owned and indebted who, the means to
(A ways outside the tower and turmoil of towns,) In the quiet color cutting of another spendid sunset... on the spit of wire spun between two telephone
Luck locked? Moon shot? Un-god got? Goner hope not Your in unlikely rock shock... Now are you just in the aiming, this hopeful knight all right and reining
Exiting Arm The pit and alabaster ascension to out the middle mind and dine to dine on the nectar hard to dine on royal oil of arm and resign the simple
I see bow, kite and bones. I really am, and you'd excuse me if my throat fell out. Say, I'm a window- and windows fall to pieces.. to pieces. And then
There's a carrot and ape... both on stage : both dangling The ape's lucky leather jacket has turned up missing and he's shouting out something about
You're peeking through the barred and blackened end of a once and former window. There's two guerillas in a hardly furnished basement rushing a hit
To somehow have it so that the long arm of all apathy might sit comfortably free beside the committed empty hopeful humaned world Do you take to take
The lids on Streetlights peel back to reveal row upon row of bulging black bird eye. all gorged out toward you like exotic zoo snakes heaped up on
A flash flood in a plastic egg, this is the obvious boy hitting. I saw a man hop a barb-wire fence, with a baby under his arm a matress on the sidewalk
See When you have the face of a man spread thin over 3 half finished records Its likely The hand doctors will knock & or ring With a child's map of your
Your blood owns no bones, with mailmen in your home holding a kinfe to your poems. To hollow all you've sown and holler goner you'rou owned... and supposing
There will be no ape with a fire for a face singing a word like fate while banging a fork on a plate. No gates, no stakes, no planes that are fake. Just
?two white horses in a line? carry me to my burial ground Should be changed to: Some need diamonds. Some need talk and fireworks. Some need cars.
Now this is how you design a flying horse
Where do you come from when you do not love yourself There you are then At the beginning and the end of a relationship You've asked nicely for your