He used to run with scissors
Now he creeps with a sharpie pen
To keep canaries in suspense.
And that beats a coal mine.
Cause up close…. It’s almost personal.
He can almost feel it
Twitching
in his enigma -
Like a holy ghost
Trying to kick.
And
nobody knows
The deal with
the shoebox
Full of sharpies
And all those
black canaries
Not to mention
Duct tape.

He keeps his griffins on a leash
And he can’t seem to sleep at night.
And He can’t even tell
if it hurts…

But he loves the way
That it's so easy to fake it.
And how anything
is possible
if everything
burns.