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Under the above, above the below a light dome glowing from the homes on the coast |
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Somehow each one makes their way back to it and every year the reservoir fills up with fluid |
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Pathways, holes, and cords connect everyone to each pair of lungs inflating under the sun |
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Warm eras shift back into ice ages, I go extinct and retrogress to simpler phases |
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With south being below us now up are mountains, moons, and clouds |
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Someday maybe act your age, stand up straight, know where and walk that way |
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A low tide exposes what hides in a high tide, for every right a wrong is right on the other side |
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Corn fields turn beige and into mazes, planetary systems go through certain phases |
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First thing to slither up on land was a fish, walked to the forest to build cities with it |
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Retire in it's incessant empire, make and fight fires, through trees weave wires |
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Into your house lies but just your mind mirroring in a lake like high lake pines |
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Some other day maybe feel your age lay down in a grave know 'where' and step that way, know 'when' and catch that wave, know 'why' so lie awake |
