that never really ended and neither did his tone
he spoke of heightless skyscrapers and cordless telephones
but i just sat with my top down and cried into the cupholders
Now that man was real funny and showed me respect
Mirrors for his eyes, no life to detect
every time I gave an answer, hoping to open
I look back at myself and the paper I'm Smoking
I hide under trends and reputable bends
between bones and my joints that let my flesh blend
I've found a new glory, that lets me sleep well
under sheets paved with green rolls, and a hand-ridden smell.
It's easy to render the things I remember
unless I betray myself and my thoughts in a blender
then I won't relish the taste of my inner wish
I let myself talk and vomit on the spoken dish.
It's like an ocean out there sometimes
Inside seas bedded with air
between good folks and bad old ones
with minds that don't compare
but when you take apart that liquid covered dish
Tides are your conscious and you'll always meet new fish.
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