My muse talked again, but of course not to me-
sitting still headphoned having just listened
to the entire Foxygen discography.
Something is never made from nothing
but some things are always never made-
I watch them pass by from my shut upstairs window
content with lukewarm lemonade.

Money will march to the beat of war drums,
passing through hard hands and chewing gum gums-
it takes what it makes, it gets what it gives
and progress is a prank found on fixed perspectives.
So if not for the cash, or to lend contribution,
why ever should I even step out my door?
Is it so my genes can offend evolution,
or just that my bedroom is such a bore?

Look at all those people going,
flowing down the street.
Like a river of corrosive mud,
they ***** whoever they meet.
So they never touch, never say hello-
just flow together down the hill
and collect at some new low.
Sleepy living in a ghost ship
sailing just above,
I'm leaning out my window-
dreaming about love.
This iridescent hull is hollow
save for you and I myself-
we remain a sticky dry,
and wallow on their bottom shelf.
I dreamt I jumped into this sea where
spotted splashing
someone saved me.
When I cried out loud enough
my tears would soak the sand
so reaching down to pull me out
I washed their ***** hands.

Every eye here is a whistle,
so keep your drugs locked up
and every seat contains a thistle
so you’ll have to sleep standing up.

Keep digging for bravery
between running from the hounds
always escaping slavery
and refraining from making sounds.

You'll soon find
that’s no way to live
the quarries here are all dug out-
So when you've got nothing left to give
and everything left to figure out
you have to pack up often
leave what you can’t keep
always take the long road
and always the most steep.

I really am just like you
except I tied myself to me
and roam around alone here
miserable and free.

What you need is what I need
but you’ll have to find me first.
I can keep you dry
and you can quench my thirst.

“Does one who has gone mad know he has gone mad?”
asks aloud the old man,

"If one does know, then surely I am not mad for I do not know;
If one does not know, then surely I am mad for I too do not know."

The man ponders naked, a bathrobe turbaned around his wet hair and sitting cross-legged on his bedroom floor. He faces directly away from the wall mirror and trips his handsome head off his bitter tongue.

Putting his chin up he resigns his thoughts, declaring
"If a sane man knows that he is sane than I surely must know too."

On this howling nightmare night,
wake together into darkness,
voodoo puppets pinned to pillows-
voices cancel out vibrations,
silence loses way in rattle,
village loses way in war,
metropolis shatters in the window,
Nightmare, I'm awake once more.

Fields stretch, of paper white
And grey as day is losing light
Alone I rally muscles fight
So I be home before the night
Wind will chill me gill to gill
As ice will render muscles still
Sheltered not from cruel chill
So I will make my journey still
Long I jog, through howling clatter
Jaw wont move, unless to chatter
Hearing sweat drops frozen, shatter
Movement warms my sleepy matter
Locomotive losing speed
Juggernaut has lost the need
Lifeless muscles need to feed
Yet still i beg them, "forward heed!"
In the distance- lights are lit!
I call, but silenced in a fit
My throat is scratched by icy spit
As I collapse in snow,
that's it.

Here’s something to melt the snows
so you may bloom your compass rose-
Go far away without delay,
how dare you ever think to stay!
Just let me take some Kate to keep
in Michigan and weep
with joy as you grow
West without a doubt-
though I keep here, I'll figure out
just where to go-
maybe somewhere that doesn't snow!
If you can do it so can I,
So go! And I might also try!