You've brought A look of disbelief onto me Like a miner's face As he walks out his cave With trembling hands Covered in A different kind of carbon You
Have prosperous thoughts been dehydrated? Dry as soft smoke tumbling on your lips You cannot hold on to love or hate Once you?ve been evaporated Once
When you're in the library In the fiction section Insert the bibles next to Huckleberry Fin No ma'am, I haven't lost my direction I'm just serving the
eleven and I'm at your door Through the miles between Your gaze has grown older But I still see that same frame I stole when I was sixteen In this foreign
Dress me in tight clothes So next to you I will be of adequate pose Make my lips glow by the pencil As if they shined like yours How boys watch their
Inevitability is blowing on my neck The titles of the book-shelved walls Rearrange to spell out what is already known Your door keeps creeping closer
The less you're oblivious The sadder you become Like having all of the ink In the world But no paper to create on Eden is back and we sit Nude and numb
There is a girl whose mind is Two hundred miles from here Time spent in the daylight Is spent drawing dark ovals I park next to the same makes of her
Come to me, come to me While I sleep Come to me, come to me Whatever you may be Who says that sugar plums don't go dancin' Through my head no more? They
There is a bus driving through a park With eight gray-haired passengers And an awe-burned driver girl Thinking of night and the bar Now age is quite
