And you lay in your prismatic mind,
Unfolding the paper planes
Swimming in your conscious ocean;
So in tuned to find room
For bottled poems like potions
To cure your mad eye.
There's a man freezing
Outside the bars
In a blistered sun
And you sung about him
Long ago, after the snow
Had dried in the afternoon,
Too soon to miss the show.
Lassoed, lonely with no where to go,
Feeling low like no tomorrow.
Forever is always tongue-in-cheek
Where speaking easy comes naturally.
We get so tied down
To get around 'Make Believe' town,
Spinning reality on a table top,
Too fast to stop
Listening to sleeping dreams
And empty silent telephone rings.
We must be going wild
Since the night takes a while
To fall for tasteless jokes,
Hooked on noses of common folk.
You never know when I'll make room
For a bothered tune
About a mad girl
Like the one in every world
That curls her fingers in her hand
After listening to a bad band
And a raunchy news story
On the black one-eyed screen.
We become these pre-criminals
Waiting to be searched
Like up-skirted brothel babes
Bending over for another round of feel-ups.
Is this the only touch that gets nauseous?
No one should live with a feeling like this.
Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.5
