February 22nd, 2015, 7.13 AM
What if the car of the bus of the darkness of the light was but a lie?
What if we were damned upon a blue, blue star?
What if the phony of the telegram in my pony was just myth?
Well, I don’t think such would fly (but it did)
What do they put in bleach and what makes real the snow?
What if they are investing in world peace at last and after all?
What happens on the day before tomorrow comes,
And what happens every morning when I greet your dad?
What did they put in my coffee, is it just a fluke?
Is it the mint soap in my bedroom in the flute?
What did they put in what I took, the little yellow pill upon the roof?
Was it the psychotics acting up in ways that sent the antis plain aloof?
Is it the desert in my mind, is it the fire in my hands?
Is it the kid I bear inside that is let out to play too much?
I wish I were on a postcard in the photograph, all the while rolling in the grass
I wish I wasn’t a guy who resides in guy who is a neighbor to the guy beside him
All in a guy who’s neighbor to the guy beside the guy who is inside him
I wish I could escape just this once more, make what I want of a Sunday afternoon
So that if you happen to fancy my funky sparkle, you can foster one for yourself too
All in an afternoon in a Sunday day in the third red moon
I’m a bird on a bird with a bird on my shoulder
I am a calf fat with a penchant for the countryside
I’m in the deep village dirt roads with my mere surviving son
Basking in the light of God almighty, God bless his wretched soul
I’m analog, baby, the crunchy type
And I annihilated myself in the war without a cry
On the boat in the sea in the ocean of the world
In Troy in my horse that I call my impearled
Is this a palindrome I’m running down in a skeleton in stripper boots?
Do I repeat myself, disgrace, spit on myself every time I dare let loose?
Do the ladies still love me, or am I just a lad?
Or was the guy in my pony in the Troy just a fad?
Why, here we go again, in a loop, in a hamster wheel in the wheel in the boot
I stomp down, at once, I reoffend, and for it I get along with every foe and every friend
Am I still a lad, or am I for once loved back?
Are the friends of the gum that I chew still awaiting in my bag?
I wish I could escape just this once, take myself where myself I wish to take
Put down your gun, spread love, not hate
Would you, please, foe or friend, would you undo the fate?
I wish I were on the construction site in the town square with shoes made so as not to let me trickle down
I wish I were not a guy in a horse that is in Troy that is a horse in Troy
Only I am not a horse, I am not a Troy Boy and I am also not a guy
What if I told you that? Would you believe me, or would you say I fell down the deepest, darkest hole?
I have a mommy and a daddy and no issues with either, my life’s been far from miserable
And I admire watching the pigeons on the fence that I climb
Though I don’t like that they put stuff in the birds that I claim
I am enclosed in the midst between two syllables, oh, what a place to disco
I inhabit the realm that’s in sound in the yard, but I wish I were not in purgatory’s limbo
The birds are singing, the crickets are not, thank God, the cats are not amigos
The frogs would croak if they were around, but they are not in limbo
And the guy beside me is my friend, but I’d still run him to the ground
Because I secretly don’t like him and I’d like him to depart
The road is still so, so absurdly long, every hour brings forth second
Each fifth a seventh lodged down my bon-throat, each room in house in land abloom in errand
Each crevice and every valley, complementary wine
Every beer with a label that says “I shall ruin your life”
Every lifeless engine holds the power to get revved up by a handy engineer
I am a passenger in a worm, housed like a city boy, country boy, oh dear
I am the thief that will get your blurry sight
I am a character in a book of the highest prestige, ripe with a thrilling siege
And I’m sorry, but it’s glory, it’ll make an awesome story, so seize it as you will
I am home and yet I’m homeless, I am a rootless tree far off south
I am a mountain peak far underground, and I am the root of all that’s bad
I am the secret you’ve been looking for between the cracks, and I won’t ever break
I am your mother when you once called upon her embrace
I am, we are, oh aren’t we all, we are grace
We are fortune, we are fame
“Gum is good for you,” they say
Behind the counter in the gum-selling store
We are fortune, we are fame
We are an idiom up in flames
With the municipal library, in utter peace please lay
And come to you never will,
Come to you never will.
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