Jun 2016
I reached enlightenment going 75 on a highway on a summer night
No visions of Blake
Only spirits of Kerouac and Thelonious Monk beside me as I sat glued to the wheel
The psalms read as tail lights
The night smelt like memories of Boy Scout camp in the hills
I saw all of the kids of the American night as they should be
O holy angels
Fresh cut sunflower souls
Finding cute boys in Nashville or Indiana
Breathing in every ounce of childhood nostalgia with cigarette whispers
The only cigarettes I smoke are the secondhand whisps from close friends
The smell of cigarettes reminds me of lost love
No tears of Marx
Karl Marx is asleep tonight and all is quiet
Josef Stalin sits in an alley
Gut rot drunk and weeping
Somewhere in South America Trosky weeps through holes in his head the shape of ice picks
O American children
Drinking 100 proof distilled American passion
A stronger high than all the drugs I have never taken
A stronger kick than all the boots of the ones who won't put up with apathy any longer
Tonight we are the ones who are holy and crying
The chill of the night seeps into my bones and I shake with the earth and with drums and saxophone and everything sounds as it should
Paul Robeson my heart goes out to you wherever you are tonight
I stand watch so the skeletons of Babylon can throw stones at you no longer
The shattered glass reminds us the struggle isn't over
O American Angels listen to me ramble
I have sat in ecstasy and seen the smile of God and everything will turn out ok
Death comes when it has to
Don't rush it my friends
Until then raise whatever glasses you have as high as you can
Use the stones they throw to build your foundation
Kiss the ones you know in your heart to be holy
Don't worry how loud you are yelling
This is America and you don't have to be sorry
This is as beautiful as we allow it to be
This is as many tears as we can afford
Only saints cry on Thursdays
And tonight the wisdom of sages are written on bathroom stalls for whoever cares enough to read it
Bless everyone who sneezes
Don't tell yourself that you aren't enough
Don't fool yourself that there is an enough
You are already as complete as you can be
You are the sunflower soul
You are enlightenment
Going 75
Down a highway
In the American night
No visions of Blake
Only spirits of Kerouac and Thelonious Monk beside me as I sat glued to the wheel
The psalms read as tail lights
The night smelt like memories of Boy Scout camp in the hills
I saw all of the kids of the American night as they should be
O holy angels
Fresh cut sunflower souls
Finding cute boys in Nashville or Indiana
Breathing in every ounce of childhood nostalgia with cigarette whispers
The only cigarettes I smoke are the secondhand whisps from close friends
The smell of cigarettes reminds me of lost love
No tears of Marx
Karl Marx is asleep tonight and all is quiet
Josef Stalin sits in an alley
Gut rot drunk and weeping
Somewhere in South America Trosky weeps through holes in his head the shape of ice picks
O American children
Drinking 100 proof distilled American passion
A stronger high than all the drugs I have never taken
A stronger kick than all the boots of the ones who won't put up with apathy any longer
Tonight we are the ones who are holy and crying
The chill of the night seeps into my bones and I shake with the earth and with drums and saxophone and everything sounds as it should
Paul Robeson my heart goes out to you wherever you are tonight
I stand watch so the skeletons of Babylon can throw stones at you no longer
The shattered glass reminds us the struggle isn't over
O American Angels listen to me ramble
I have sat in ecstasy and seen the smile of God and everything will turn out ok
Death comes when it has to
Don't rush it my friends
Until then raise whatever glasses you have as high as you can
Use the stones they throw to build your foundation
Kiss the ones you know in your heart to be holy
Don't worry how loud you are yelling
This is America and you don't have to be sorry
This is as beautiful as we allow it to be
This is as many tears as we can afford
Only saints cry on Thursdays
And tonight the wisdom of sages are written on bathroom stalls for whoever cares enough to read it
Bless everyone who sneezes
Don't tell yourself that you aren't enough
Don't fool yourself that there is an enough
You are already as complete as you can be
You are the sunflower soul
You are enlightenment
Going 75
Down a highway
In the American night
