it burned slow as i sat in front of a mirror listening to overplayed psychedeli… music from the 60's it was the first time i ever smoke…
seven years ago almost home coming over the bridge from a show in The Windy City we hit the ice
do not weep when the bird flies aw… from your window sill be grateful that it ever landed th… even if just for a moment
dehydrated my heart became small hardened by the air of hopelessnes… with a little time and some water it has grown and changed
love digs graves all around the world but i used to
he came out of the New Orleans shadows first went the grocer and
sparks fly when you put a couple forks in the microwave too
a mind at war with itself for so long thoughts turn into grenades or helicopter blades
the broom disdains fate sweeping destinies away our futures of dust
our savings accounts cry out for m… but we only have so much to give coins jingling away in the pocket a few dirty fives in the wallet the shelves are in need of grocery
time reduced to ash all the clocks were made of fire burning each second
he lights one last flame home is where the burning is bed of devil’s rest
what happened to it? pen with which he wrote the note ink of his last words
just in case we never find each ot… if the days between us are forever… if the moon has led you to another… if you travel always the road away… just in case we awake
tailored finely to be worn proudly on the dance floor on the moon over top-shelf martinis over the rainbow