That’s not what I said! Don’t put a spotlight on the wreckage
I’m trying to develop my vision here. Eye shakes to hold
the agreed-upon home. Can I bring you some water? Aren’t you thirsty?
Full grown, furious horses under my bed.
Aimed my spotlight on a palm tree, walked up sat down and soon fell asleep.
Then a mosquito came & drank the mystery from me.
Now waiting to be seen in great silence.
In general romantics are misheard clicks that grow to drum sets.
The heart lives in deeds; scrub the floor, sweat the labor.
Trading your light to keep theme alive.
In a circle of full grown furious horses, here comes
the first storm of paradise.
Can’t say I’ve never agreed, or had to run from anything I’ve loved.
Can I bring you some water? Aren’t you thirsty?
In one motion I threw the blankets off my bed, stood up and said,
Where are you now? Are you breathing? Are you fine?
Yeah, just hiding out in here for a while.
Are you still working your way through that sweater
or putting this off, pulling it off!
Your perfect little mystery looks good to you now
you’re putting in more than you know you’ll get out
And I told you enough was better than a feast
but who wants to listen when there’s so much to eat?
You’re like a dog sniffing a tattoo of a skull with roses for hair.
You’re confused, you see it but it isn’t there.
Into your sun-blessed life, into the first storm of paradise.
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