Make Love Mine.
White plush on a plastic backing.
Pick between your thighs.
Vodka olive.
Cranberry wine.
Forget me knots.
Fresh cut grass.
Avocado green boiled eggs from Peter cottontail.
I am putty in your hands, template broken stained glass sands.
The red hand amasses minute fears and plastic.
Stiff upper means and this rose is turning green.
Feel like a mirage
Smoke rising inside scrapes past my jaw in a path of Might, Mighty Mighty Mountain High.
Tell me sweetheart have you the line?
Honest I’ve forgotten the lime and the lie.
Milk in my whiskers taste jest fine, nice and worn, salty divine in a path of Might, Mighty, Mighty, Mountain High.
Ignorance is stupid walking with a stick.
The cripple who want dance, the junkie and his fix.
Broken cardboard mines, dig a little deeper for the marble inside on the Mountain High, the Mighty, Mighty, Mountain High.
Tinkertoy slavedrivers rubbing me raw, pinned me down to brake my jaw, misshapen hand between foreign scars.
Every time my heart pounds they inject me.
Every time my heart beats they correct me.
FREEDOM cradle sown.
FREEDOM I need to own.
My heart glows
Bloody foal
Butane and a penny for your marbles
Butane and a penny for your thoughts
The caul worn thin begins to rot
Crushed red velvet moistened rocks
Retract me heart gland BACK
Like clockwork
The dollar ain’t worth more than my artwork.
I see my knuckles bleeding with all of them lies.
FREE WILL free will I cry
Let me be the beauty to your wandering eye.
I’m sorry mother I can’t deny
I was lost.
Bury the burden Bury the belt
Cinnamon and Cocoa and we’ll be felt.
The heaven’s in my coal
The heaven’s that were stole
For diamond locks diamond locks
I’m a horse baby
Need no rabbit to run
Nailed to the mettle of the starting gun
Now there ain’t nothing better than having some fun.
Playing pretend again
Playing house with all my fire friends.
I’m your Instant Coffee Child
Black and mild
Feel me hunger
Feel me wild
As margarine ripped from the apple core
Smathers the toast face down on the floor
Please tell me mister have you the score
Fried worms and Ima bird on the wire.
You cannot reprint heart bought and sold
Pound for pound the blood grows cold.
And I know now that Satahn is old.
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