poor boy plays his flute to a herd of goats grazing in the dunes sunny side up what’s that the symbol of? the grass is always greener on my side of the dream the tapping on my window pane sets another scene it’s heavy weather the sky is grey the rain pours down dismal as an infant’s funeral
some days I drag the low
end but
it doesn’t matter it
doesn’t bother me I
won’t be writing any suicide notes on that
account I’m
not fixing to die anytime soon I just
began learning how to live I
have circumstances to accommodate and
those can be a bitch I can’t complain but I will anyway
I roll out of bed a tsunami of shit sweeps me off my feet and leaves me gasping on the wakeful shore these are the heavy latitudes and the
days land hard dark
and oppressive this
is the land of ghosts and ancient lore the land of violence and suicidal
rage I have firewater in my veins and
fear in my heart these last million miles have worn me thin one
good rain could wash me down the
drain to dissolve like baby aspirin in a pool of baby tears
I’m wedded now
to this heavy heart to have
and hold until death we do part I’m just a dog without a
bone still fighting a
war that ended long
ago a typhoon picked me up and shook my shadow
loose the pieces have fallen back to
earth but my light casts no warmth and
I’m not the man I pretended to be
back in the day before the deluge swept me away
