love the lying preachers and the dying fawn amongst the tall grass groves in the valleys of green hills
speak softly to the fairies and goblins that light your path
tread heavily upon such ground that you claim as yours
fear not the bellows of wire-men
show me thou drinking talent
thy smokey eyes
dead in the stomach of winter

they chant your name in the streets during wartime
even now i know my debt is due

down in the wonderful sweet taste of not being dead, i am here
i am here through salty waves, sun drop burps lively gaze
a stunning figure passing me every moment
today i have a conscious

i am a reticent hill
i speak for myself and my clouds

come fast and convert me to nice purple feelings
convert me into those salty waves
or downright garabge
fleeting all happy thoughts
now only the balanced can prevail