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    Oh my God
    They've got angels sweatin' like Hell, it's
    workin' their little halos to the bone combing them deserts
    my figure eight knotted
    lifeline defined traffic
    the way my schoolin' end-less-ly defined every day
    one exquisite fitted crisis rivets an octagon of red
    to the ceiling above my bed
    it's not a conversation piece, like public spectacles
    unleashed more of a clue
    so when I wake up to the rains I'll be one step ahead of you
    I slide like Kodakrome(?)
    wrote a poem for every planet
    tracked their mileage from the sun in an envelope
    licked it, stamped it
    got eight thank yous in the mail, but nine planets means there's one left
    only the earth would thank me later with a breath taking sunset
    (man, I'm just a bum)
    zip that waterfall around your skeleton
    tell it to boil
    loyalties, the shovel in the soil
    dig it, I split my lip kissing the winter
    nursed the blister in the sun
    strung a hammock between spring and where the willows turn to blood
    might of worked
    sip a little, litter it, love it
    without big beetles trying to sell him sunflower seeds by the bucket
    might of, tugboat for the boxcutter above those ashes
    without hot air balloons floatin' their four passenger baskets
    and I'm asking you
    to let a captive lacerate a caption
    splash out massive
    apolster plastic glasses with famine patches
    i-dentify all saints linked around the fountain's warmth
    and for a second taste of pain when removing that crown of thorns
    ?????,???,???, born hostile, pacifist huddled in subtle masochist
    stamp the blame on ??? ???
    my fire escape overlooks ghost town market place
    artists bought out passes
    then fast themselves to the target's face
    you're killin' me

    if I had a hammer, I'd build a city on stilts
    so my feet would stay dry when God's wine glass tilts

    if I had a shovel, I'd dig a hole in the dirt
    and I'll be hiding when his drunken stupor lands upon earth

    and if your little wing is broken
    I'll see the poacher in hell
    I can't afford another ????? in a cell
    my carousel mimics the interests of a thousand leaking spickets
    and a colony of graziers raised to justify the grimace
    (and yes I read the treaty)
    I prescribe the remedy plus the premises
    my pin cushion, my limbs pushin' the knitting needle
    evils, idle, peddle past the greeting
    where the sleepers feed the cycles
    stop, watch the eagles board the little engine that could not
    ghost in a shell
    and it fell in my lap
    passin', postin' the bail but the guard has misplaced the key ring (that's
    I lead a flee to blaze exact songs directly into the village
    power supply burning the bridge between the magnet and my eye
    now how many cadavers satisfy a mad man?
    and how many crooked samaritans turn plesantville to bad land?
    I can count my own dusty nickels with you laughing
    about you'll turn my poor ass ebony and navy with cane lashings
    (well, you're right)
    grip your pointed stick, incite your riot
    I'll sell your worth in a bottle at profit, explain my bias
    atomic box cult, downward spiral rapidly
    cast to hell with hate mail, forged Christ's autograph
    laughed itself, drastic catastrophe
    biting my lip
    skin and bones, stringent
    bingin' on rancid baits
    mummified well inside a muddy New York minute
    was it
    your remnants my smoke rings have cocooned prior to fading?
    well, it wasn't conscious spite but it might have been that

    I am not your friend anymore
    my arrow head dissertation(?)
    when narrow bed sleepers occupy the basement
    and I am not your friend anymore
    come the dawning of ???? in your pity blend that whispers in the wind

    man, if it were only that simple
    I'd add a guilt frame to ???
    I'd board myself inside my room to trace the wilting contour
    one petal falls to the rug, she loves me not
    town crier lugging a boom box with spirit plugs
    and a red radio flyer
    tied to irony like twenty burning igloos with a sailors knot
    fiddler crabs build sandcastles while high tide off azalea crops
    in the icicle field I portray, cats get antsy
    and ask 'why if every light is dark do I continue dancing?'

    why if every light is dark do I continue dancing?

    why if every light is dark do I continue dancing?

    why if every light is dark do I continue dancing?
    well if it ain't finally a question that's worth answering

    I boogie for the raindrops
    for the purity, the anger
    for my childhood recollections
    for the comic book in my heart
    the mocked intentions
    the clarity, passion, seclusion
    those cool summer nights
    for the mark emerging across the street selling me stog's at half price
    for the mights, the maybes, the nauseating pitfall
    my girl, my friends
    for the fact my window opens towards a brick wall
    for the three legged dog I saw dragged on a leash
    for the homeless man who walks my block in rainstorms with plastic bags on
    his feet
    see I throw away the tenders over one shoulder
    and walk across broken glass
    through every wicked world to kiss tomorrow's morning
    not for nothing
    you'll drown in a pool of your crooked morals
    whispering 'maybe Aesop Rock was on to something'

    maybe, no promises

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