There's old junior Bobby
Waltzing fine felt elegies
Back stage fronting
Towards his morning
Patrons of widowers
And their crows
Feather coffee
Trying so hard
To tell young
Men what
Their Rose gardens
Once did before
Our now lady returns with
Smiles hoping
The one letter she took
Out of her name
Creates better tips.

Out of her calls
Come calypsos
Defiance
Alas perfections
Immortality
Total sexuality.

You are heads or tails
What you give me I except
Subconsciously.  Inside me I make
You forgetful.
So some how

Now you are women on sand.
Unapproachable
Inside me she has been impressionable.
What she knows I change quickly
When she calls me I stand
Respectfully
When she drops I pull her out
Like buckets of squid.

It's hard to see how unread the love we share becomes.  How strangely women turn off our solo.
White snow stealing the grass
So children can ride them.
The unforgiven gardens to secret
Soil.
You didnt know you didn't know.
It's all you, it's all you.
The Canadian geese chasing the ducks
Hoping for hand outs.
Is all we will ever feel
And all we ever hold back
Because our tireless souls
Have liove with our strange
Breaded dreams
To show our serenaded
Screaming psalms amongst the pitty of rainy days
And make us hunt those midnight
Martini kisses player fashion.
But now comes the kicker and we are settled.  To rap that we have lost our
Main vision forgotten so ignorently lost.

If you consumed your own
Omnipresence inside
The grieving soul your
Mother wouldn't pace around
In polka dotted insomnia thus
Your old society
Of Sunday tee times
Wouldn't of become another old
Nova.
And now the apparent storms say  only then
Can the wind leave us
Thoughtless
And only then can
Clocks whisper
Quietly how time
Erases care and grieving.

Day after she has traveled
Her red painted pond
Treading and changing
Her ashy remains
Towards the slow green hat
Whom guards the geese
With owlish eyes.

You gota be a monster to get what you need.
Some regrets are always not going for perfection
And yea he's way to far away.
The real man walks in  and gets close
To the blondes, red heads, the lovers
They want 150
They need 200
The real dream walks fearlessly
Taking what ever he wants.
Forget your *******
Yea if you let be free
He will overcome all fear
And huff his nomadic take over.
You don't exist he has everything you need.
Like fearless guts.
He says let me show you a close up shot superior ideals.