i think i'll go home and mull this over

before i cram it down my throat

at long last it's crashed, the colossal mass

has broken up into bits in my moat.



life the mattress off the floor

walk the cramps off

go meander in the cold

hail to your dark skin

hiding the fact you're dead again

undeneath the power lines seeking shade

far above our heads are the icy heights that contain all reason



it's a luscious mix of words and tricks

that let us bet when you know we should fold

on rocks i dreamt of where we'd stepped

and the whole mess of roads we're no on.



hold your glass up, hold it in

never betray the way you've always known it is.

one day i'll be wondering how

i got so old just wondering how

i never got cold wearing nothing in the snow.



this is way beyond my remote concern

of being condescending



all these squawking birds won't quit.

building nothing, laying bricks.

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