A shaky feeling as I pat at my chest
telling myself to move on
to accept
yet try as I may failure is my friend
so I stop trying to find success.

Im the sweet talking hard headed man who never bedded your woman after we gone to macdonalds but I saw a movie with arnold now hes the mayor seemed to work in my favor.
I make gold rain i know it hurts but thats a good pain I make you rich with out even trying  why you cryin I ain´t even shyin away from my fame like a million dollar baby born with a silver spoon now tell me thats not shady
cause it ain´t son.
I´m the one you been looking for the one you been seeking for the one you been reaching for im the golf ball in the air so yell fore! cause I´m there.
Mother ***** I´ll never be a trucka when I got rhymes like dimes which take no time to fight some illegal activity.
I put suckas in cribs cause I make dem weep like kids now run home and **** on some **** Im a million dollar baby born with a silver spoon for *****.
I´m the best son cause all I do is have fun. Can´t touch this you know you want this too hot to play with you too busy making barbeque, ON MY CHEST.
I´m ******* hot not like the rest cause I spit seeds from rasberries and I know she carries blackberries but I don´t want those no more fo show. Ya know what I´m sayin.
Just to prove it doesn´t matter how you act as long as its fact that your having fun, dont mean to shun with offense in any wrong tense I said with some words that if I played the guitar I´d play you some cords but I can´t so I end this rhyme with some swords.

fading mist desperate hands can no longer cling to the rising sun
dew settles as dew does
small deer find tasteful treats between the trees
a rabbit stirs
rays of light hit the lingering souls of water wondering where to go
so they throw a party and invite seven colors to join them.
I unbuckle my pants to **** and just barely miss a flower.

I could see him standing beneath the bridge,
dressed in blue and navy
cotton and denim,
his beard was long,
longer than your train
the train you had as a kid,
his beard huffed and puffed
telling the story of growing old
his eyes were clouds
floating on his face
and if he was angry only his nose would know,
bent and flat pushed up farther on the right
hung down lower on the left,
I only assume he had lips
and teeth,
only his beard moved
but he never spoke
beards don't speak,
he wasn't wearing shoes,
it was cold outside,
snowmen would melt,
but it was still cold,
It had just rained
I could see the puddles
but I couldn't see the sun,
This man saw nothing
he just stood there,
I just walked by.
I could see him thinking all the thoughts
we try to forget,
his face was wrinkled,
furrowed brows make the deepest lines,
a soggy man,
he ate enough or drank enough
i guessed,
because he was warm enough,
a thinking man,
what better place to think than under a bridge,
I'll call him the troll,
I'll paint paintings
and write with chalk
I'll make a memorial
for a man who's only a memory,
I saw him,
I can't forget,
This man will never die,
he'll last as long as the chalk on the ground,
keep thinking for us troll
thinking keeps the boy insane,
keep saving us troll
we can't do it we keep forgetting,
keep standing troll
cause we keep falling down,
be my savior troll,
and I'll keep walking,
just don't steal my ****

It's fast, the jazz that plays in the kitchen,
there's only one light on but it has three lights on it,
           pointing up,
It paints shadows on the couches,
the wax is dry but there aren't any more candles to light,
the ****** mary's still a ******,
at least the one at the table,
they turned the mary into candles for sac religious college kids,
I don't think they got them to be disrespectful
      yet still,
           we laugh.
Homework, books, lighters, and cameras.
It feels warm so I put on a sweater,
it feels like I'm being hugged,
sometimes a hugs not long enough,
but I feel wrong never letting go.
I guess the shadows hug me too,
I'm being held tonight,
I want to be held by you...
I wish the warmth and the shadows were you

a boys body needs no added stimuli,
karma sutra books
in the back of the barns and the nobles
have real pictures too.
these lil boys fall in love with pretty girls,
they tell them what they think they feel,
they feel what makes them think.
I heard once that a man only has enough
blood for one of his two heads.
To the pretty girls,
forgive these misguided boys,
their foolish words,
their hurtful lies,
they never understood the difference of love,
and a *******.
Cause once they get soft,
they'll realize which head was thinking,
then they'll hear which head was talking.
You might see a slight terror in their eyes,
maybe they'll act different.
As much as they'd like to say
"I'm sorry, I got *****"
they know they can't, granted,
us boys don't know much.
Yet *******,
is a hairy deed,
and we don't want our eyes to fall out.
Our fingers are only so fun for the first few years
of self discovery,
and then, call it man's nature, we get greedy,
we want more.
The subtle touch of a girls embrace,
white thighs exposed
criss corssing between our own criss crossed legs.
We also like the warmth
and the thump thump thump of a beating heart
against our ears.
We like the smell,
the salt
and the cries of any great sea.
Scream to us,
let us know we aren't demons
squeezing between the floor boards
for a wet ***** and a few moans,
we boys are lovers too.
Teach us how,
you don't always have to say no.

Its a city I've never seen
as I ride waves painted on steel tracks
looking through worn out glass
to see the setting sun cast behind refineries,

I got off on McArthur, not really sure
but the voice said southbound
and I think I heard
San Francisco too,
These are good times to be aware and maybe
not wear what plays music in my ears
but I heard
cause I listened
and I found myself there,

"Man I know You!"
homeless men have diamond voices
when they sing me as I walk,
homeless times since 1982,
I'm sure you've all bought
one paper at one time for one dollar for someone before,

That night was my first night,
but I never read mine just got high on city lights
as I got lost on stockton and found myself on top of Sacramento,
and I'll tell ya I was looking for Jones street which is next to ofarrely.

12 pack PBR is a better deal then a six,
Apples make for better pipes
then glass on glass with sticks to light our way home,
home, where was I but old friends making new friends
reading old words hearing new,

"Im the Honeycomb baby
Yea baby
the Honeybomb",

Walking finding not so lonely bus's
Come out and Play yayyyyyy,
people know of warriors too
when you shout for no one in particular to hear
the public transport people know we all got somewhere far to go,

Welcome to the city streets
where leaking gutters
is one man peeing on the streets
I swear his stream was strong,

Welcome to the city view,
the tallest building,
that hill,
a university,
You can see the stars tonight
not always,
your lucky,
be ready for the cloudy nights,

Welcome to the city voice
where everyone sings their little tune
and everyone sings along,
you pick up one guitar,
two more might follow
with a bass and djembe too

Welcome to the city boy.
Its your new home for now,
and now is all that really matters.

And don't forget a bicycle
cause taxicabs ain't fun
when your broke
living life rich on something more then paper bills,

cause

You might work from 10 to 12
but your here and your living
and I hear everyone still goes out to play
cause you work for fun
and your fun is what you make it,

I might never leave
yet I might find myself coming back
its San Francisco
and I'm living near
to find out what the city means
to those who have lived suburban dreams
can only venture out to guess
what a city holds
for those little boys
finding out what it means to make a man.

So I'm welcomed to the city
and its only just begun,
cause now its my turn for another job
for more fun
made of all fun
in times to high to care,
cause it don't matter what you wear
or how you act,
as long as your discovering you
for what might be true,
Cant tell you that I know
But I'll tell you,

Welcome to the city,
cause you might already live here,
but listen to this Kansas Colorado Oregon kid speak,
everyday holds something new
no matter how long you've lived,
or plan to.

to my tattered brothers and sisters I sing this little tune for you:

Pick up a bottle
Throw away your lives
Pitch a tent under an overpass in San Francisco.
Collect tin cans that never rust
and pick for food in garbage cans.
Talk too loud cause your used to to hum and the buzz of the engines that never quite seem to turn off.
Your white noise, your little humming butterfly.

I see hipster talking cool cat bearing fake glass wearing tight jean preaching ***** walking down old man made a big buck avenue.
Maybe I'm just jealous that my ***** die from boxer briefs n levi skinny fits with out benjamin striding along my side.

Old punk rockers tye dye bandanna wearing sweet talking hard headed mother ******* that never quite seem to die.
Keep getting laid off and job offers but no parachute, no just in cases only no replies. Name your dog's royalty, let them splash through mud, don't you care if your old woman can't dare to see the beauty in your queen's ***** getting all wet from playing with new friends. "Keep living while your young"

The smarts can't hold a job with business's that no one really cares. You live your suburban dream with Rudolf leading santa's slay with light's too bright for all your neighbors to stare. Email lists, outlook express, phones phones phones out for a contact you may never see again. Where'd the comradmanship go when working wasn't work it was fun as well.

To young ones rolling half empty water bottles down stairs, covering curious eyes with baseball caps, sneaking candy cookies cause you don't care about sugar high's or blood. Listen to your music "its good for the soul" but don't wear nice yuppie clothes to impress upon those older queers. Ice cream scoops to big to bear, make no sense to those that hear baffled cries of young mans rise, don't be afraid to be afraid. Young ***** hurt, I know.

City streets, and landfill pies, composting spoons made of tater starch, eating new foods crying old cries. Food too cold, too hot, too dry. Empanada's good, pork liver bad. These kids is cool, making something of themselves, talk to no one, no need just feel the vibe.

White walls dappled with texture, more appeasing for the eyes. A house with too many switches yet no lights, not enough lamps for more shadows and less tries. Floors don't need no wood laid out, concrete works, it's cheaper too. The house stays warm when your burning money for fire rather than cheap rides.

This is what they saw, just a new age, a new time. This is what I see, and why I sing, and why I tell you all of a decade which may never sleep enough to watch the old sun fall. Those dreams may be too real after all.

a stuffed couple share their skin with clothes never to be taken off trapped within their sins they lust for a simple pleasure stripped from them.
Yet they have books too heavy to read their arms drawn to their bodies their feet sewed together while they stand looking down at me.
Every afternoon I tie back the shades and give them a glimpse of a garden they will never walk and scentless flowers they will never smell, but how could they know that.
Their house hangs on the wall carved of wood their bedroom is on the thrid floor around the corner and through the doors they dream of the simple cottage far from the city.
They never move, they never speak, they never sigh, they can´t even weep, all they do is see what its like to be me.