Two ripe for solar, tender rust. Too unfortunate to wake up. Not a problem, don't blame us. In the warm of daylight's cunt. In the black hole of cream and sunbeds.
A chair in the corner. One leg broken. And a whisper in the hall. There's frustration. Another walk around the room. A loss of direction. Before the start.
In light of my present mess. In light of my mental weather's turn. In light of all the crash and burn. I'll open my mind as wide as ever. . The line behind the lesson.
Can't think a straight line beyond the hill. It seems like a mountain. Next to an ocean, behind a thrill. Almost in my reach. . If there's a way I could.
Feel heavy. Once felt it hard. . Question an answer. For a thousand days. Give birth to the earth. Then let it drift away. . Open and flow. Just swinging forever.
Hey alright. That killer's overpaid. I never liked avenging angels. How good are they?. That killer's got it made. . Who's got the stones?. Who's gonna be the goat?.
Even in the wreck house of a promise. Even in the gem blow of an awe fist. Everyone's an air flow through the blonde dirt. Everyone's an asshole in the wonder.
One night I fell. Rolled over, caught some good air home. Above a deep, ferocious hillside. Hell and malfunction. We know, need, feel, want. We'll grow it in our mind's sun.
Undertow, you're thrown. An old God has one bolt left. In flight. An aeroplane in slow motion. While all around are dark days. With all around unsure.
Given good ground to walk around. It would mean so much to me. To see things for my still young self. Or else, I might not believe. . Whatever people say in their own ways.
Rev high. Bend low and free the dead word. When I stand up and feel the head burst. When I stand out I'll hold it under. When I stand down I won't be down for long.
I'm barefoot, I'm bristling. Solitude on my rooftop, solid. Like there's no more stars. Staring at me. . Who's out there?. I can see the girl. Across the way.
In a cosmic space we seek. Nothing but pain and disease. We ran out of Earth. To find peace and wood. A voyage to eon. Takes more than we can live. Thanks to this well find.
Sunday, always hard to get to sleep. When weird noises are implying threats. On cold sheets, I sweat. . On any other day. It's all rest and flowers. And a long night of nothing.