Song: The Real Ding
Year: 2002
Viewed: 45 - Published at: 3 years ago

Oh, tempest of again and then within my dark, lit eye
Has dreaming spun you 'round about the hand you are escaping with?
Is it too far as scenery goes?
Always alone when shaped like this, the heart is Heaven-huge
Hiding in the seam of solar systems, embracing
All space is leaning in to get a scent of you
It's dangerous outside as well as in
I'm magic for the chosen few
Confused as well as clarified
Unknown, a pixel in your TV screen
Give me truth and I'll how you how you lie
Givе me lies and I will know your self
As far as thе skin can stretch are islands, tan children, and laughter
Slow metaphor of blood flow, a challenging descent to find points
Viewed from above, it is of no concern around the globe
All scrawl and clutter where toes design your whereabouts
And eyes are fields departing
Great lengths, deceptive, a ladder partakes
Of itself climbing into arm safe apertures
Convinced of its usefulness
How steady the spin is descending again to remove the view from altogether
Axis and paramecium converge, connect
Dry as dust for present touch
Immaculate wax on mannequin-sized neighbors all alone
Outside in trees, a trance of community
This place is baubled with victory
Successes of democracy
Lingering stinkily, our commitment is to Christmas trees and history
Unloved by those we chain to us
However, I am satisfied
A comforting selfishness mingles with my sweat
Terror confounds my every cell
It's daytime when the eyelid grows
And ghastly when the dripping slows
Writing poetry on fingernails will never pass the time away
It's griefly, coldly lonely living beneath the ice and soundless fissures
I'm a drag in too tight clothing watching windows fill with frost
A crack will form
I'll think again, belief responds outside where the worms all hide
Holes become your fingers in earth
Sky-blue, and cherry-red windy resplendent
Never an average mind in winter
Adorn your golden tongues with mouse traps and children's stories
Give gravy to the singing birds to shut them up
Focus on your diaphragm
Or hold your nose in effigy to mama

Oh, holy countenance, help me fry an egg
Your omnipotent machinations can't fit in our stomachs
I fear starvation will be your only answer to our prayers (To our prayers)
Or perhaps we are praying for hunger to deliver us from comfort
To lead us into the stone bed of our passions
Lying midst the ruins, defeated and drooling
A dead dog bringing a leash along

Wild woman clothed in pig knuckles
Screaming savage litanies at her deaf god we forever shadow
Cloistered midst ballyhoo and willow-brained brethren
Lashing at expressionistic flesh hung fresh to the day in the backyard of our dreams
And forlorn, too, the ration of eyes to eyes
It is not the right wind for the back to be against
So, stand still and drifted of mind, correct the time
A sign has come in luminescent lassitude, a bed spring to the land of Oz
Two feet away from everything
Sad hours closer than a day away
What makes it so?
Have we no ligaments left in our souls?
Are we to never bend again beneath the sway of our indifference?
Give up your tombstones
There is rot enough in our quick pace

Somewhere, there will soon be motion to the cause of this
More dusky and delicious, meanwhile, trap the skin
In liquor tight and ignorance, at least in the beginning
There'll be room enough for growth
It comes free with self-effacement

( Cerberus Shoal )
www.ChordsAZ.com

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