lyrics
And though they have spoken of mighty deeds,
the world still revolves on the back of appraisal pages.
Play by the dangerous, run by the Hister,
the weedpuller's with you.
I go to the garden just twice a week,
finding the rabbits that sit nibbling at the porch bottom,
asking my daddy, “just what does the water mean?”
And with eyes closed you're almost there.
Which house will she call, when will she be ready?
Can half-lights show what half-lights mean?
What beats macaws around a riddle
'til trampled the bag that I keep my appointments in
splatters the wall with her pinks and her lavenders?
Five leaking colors, onion leek, radishes.
Retard of Holloway, I'm kissing the crown on your head.
Grappling, chaffing, choked with weed,
splitting the Adam with single celled fantasies.
Fat Man and Little Boy have never felt lonelier,
because when they arrive, pink flesh runs away from them.
The Enola Gay dropped Galilee
with chests full of fire to curse and pay homage for,
razing the cities and finding the garden in me.
Capsules of color and ballads of dancing machines,
she's just a photograph.
These memories are eating me alive.
There's a neighbor whom you've never seen.
He's pushing up daisies he sighs before he disappears.
I'm making friends with the spiders, address: hole in the wall.
The world is blazing with colorful people like you.
You're a masterpiece of fleshy flowers, ovaries, and art.
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