Black thrush magic, Sam told me 'bout it
Spit shining a T32, spiders hanging in the psych ward
Hard cores in rotten apples, illicit samples
Lines of camels in the desert, dive in head first
A drop of water in an open eyelid
I ran and hid
Can't find me
I can see, finally
A way out, forward, round about
Fillet of trout, cutthroat
A new demeanor called hope