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Caution, hot ashes |
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The girl says to her first kiss |
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They stuck eternity inside a bird's fist just to watch it fly |
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Just to make it go |
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Just to let them slip away |
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Don't ask me how |
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I know I just do |
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Night surgeon dons his robes |
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To take apart a fellow amateur |
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Well I've heard it once said |
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One gives what one gets |
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Oh I didn't go out into this world |
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Just to get stung by rich mans hornets |
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Who amongst us has left these things undone |
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Who let these animals into my kingdom |
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A blind doe learns to work the rig |
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A once thin man turns into a pig |
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The endless groves where my soul pukes the night away |
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The problem as |
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I see it I was messed up |
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On a tangent |
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I was wrong |
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They mix them strong |
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And I was partial to the feeling |
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It's a terrible feast we've been stuffing our faces on |
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A terrible breeze from the east coming on |
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Bearing the scent of our one hundred first kills |
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You love her you leave her |
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You try to achieve |
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But the vision that she has from the start |
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I've got street despair carved into my heart |
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I've got street despair carved into my heart |
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My dear didn't you hear |
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A chorus is a thing that bears repeating |
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And the problem as |
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I see it is |
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Girls stay away from that shit |
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Saw you in |
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Swan Lake you were great |
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Saw you down in |
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Strathcona square devouring an |
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AfterEight |
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Who cares |
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I didn't mean it |
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For your last encore |
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You sawed yourself in half |
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It was just you and your raft and this crummy requiem |
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Shooting rockets |
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Run or fly |
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At some point |
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I had to ask why |
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I had to show you a world not tethered to disasters |
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But this would prove impossible |
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I snuck a look inside your skull and said |
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Don't look now |
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But Gretchen's seeing red again |
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The truth is a thing to coax out of it shell |
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The truth on this you and |
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I are going to tangle |
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Off treacherous bliss off |
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First you come in all sweet |
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And then on tiger's paws you retreat |
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Into a darken nether shadow region |
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Hey are they still serving that piss |
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Shooting rockets |
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And it'd be true what they say |
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Were they to say why yes |
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I dig the scourge |
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It's not that |
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I quit It's not that my poems are shit |
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In the light of the privilege of dreams |
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Alive she cried once now alive she screams |
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Shooting rockets |
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Praise be the delightful muezzin tending his flock |
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Praise be those alabaster hands running amok on your body |
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They love you in spite of your lame scene |
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We live in darkness the light is a dream you see |
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Shooting rockets |
