Every day, every hour, every overhand knot
I deem century long but it feels like it's not.
Snow slap in the windshield, that has been the wake-up response.
Every road was main where luck did ensconce.
Every blink, every day, what's the rhyme for the night,
I can't figure what's wrong, I don't know who's right,
And I cannot sleep tight. It is all maple sap on the sand
And its run time I cannot extend.
Morning coffee, lounge chair,
The disaster's in the air,
The despair's dancing star around the corner.
That's the question, that's the tenet,
That's my palm and sun to tan it,
The uncharted summer planet; gift of honor.
Every first goalkeeper expecting the save
Learns the sweet fly that's coming to bother and crave.
It is singing like far silver ice, snow the third
Streaking down the road it's aiming to gird.
Morning coffee, lounge chair...
Original: altwall.net/texts.php?show=tequilajazzz&number=44535
Original/audio:
Original/video: www.youtube.com/watch?v=KEX4NWJwTuU (distorted, overdriven)