You can five-five out of the ten dollars
Split my face into a shared love
On a candle-lit dinner, talking about change
The fertile and warmer stratus of the fabric of time and traces
Dance and bounce up on the wrong end of the shore of the sunnier Big Sur
The timeless freedom of the doubt, you're not a Boy Scout
You're out of excuses, you've run out of petulance
Tell me more, that your gander doesn't accept your biscuits
Dog treats, too bad karma's a *****
The boy scouts don't take some witty transient soul
Gender dysphoria, where in the world, I'll show you fear in a handful of tuilles and caramel dust
Smoldering a smitten cigarette, and the reciprocating love of the numinous
Bumblebee flying of the wrong note, in the symphony
If you can play it slow, you can flay it fast, indeed
Tres, doux, un and the numbers are wrong
3121 are the redacted numbers of the phone that I broke, the writer knows where the rubber's at
You know the time, fief
The trembling fear is a pied piper dream, I'm breaking my nuts
On a growing pair of hopes, that shower me with colorful affection
Afflicted by the greed, and lithe people are my illumination
They have Swede dreams and Swiss sweets
German grobschnit and psychedelic for the arts, centered around cherry pop
Coke's a drug if you snort it with the straw until you get the ice out
Tentative and attenuating, alarm me by the evoking stoner's death
Daydream and dredges of some sinister sarcasm wake you up out of being a criminal dude