Grass does grow green in Spring.
Snowmelt's been done, drawn out.
Aye, how you all feign complacency.
(I kiss men at dusk in the street light.)
I've been restless all night, goin' on about them
rimed hearts and their timely, metered whispers in ears:

O' they say he's got a stellar mind
but that his bones carry weights unkind
and unknown to the modern man's heart.

O' they say we'll never know just how
hard he fell; he loved you then and now
he spends his days aching from rapt thoughts.

O' they say he's bound to collapse in
but what do they know of whisperin'
and weights of wanting– So heavy still!

You hold them pages to the flames, what delusions!
Hearts be weighted with bells and ringing.
You've wrapped thoughts 'round index and thumb, such confusion–
Heavy-weighted with iron shavings.

You never go far for anything.
You're wont to be needin' some more swell.
You see the water run from the well.

And everyone here is moving a bit too slow.
And I'm getting a bit too restless.
And every day passes without something to show–
And I am feeling rather restless.

I was just a'pacin' through them woods.
I'm prone to be wantin' some more swell.
I have drank the water from the well.

No, I was just a'snappin' down on some smoked skin.
And everyone since drives me straight moot.
No, I was just ponderin' that moment– Some sin!
Yea, every day since I've felt clumsy.

They'd call it a whoopsy-daisy slip
into loose and hazy days and nights.
Whip-lashing from nails; scratches down backs.

There ain't no more whistlin' nay howlin' in this place.
Hush now, until the well runs bone-dry.
There ain't no wratch who's been wretch'd out like you– Some chase!
Hush'd and still, this well's gone and ran dry.