let’s run to the vermouth tree
let’s run up the bark
chipping off skin
showing smooth pane
you and me
you and me
just
you and me
you and me
we’ll be kings in our altitude
we’ll drink the sap
to makes us drowsy
we’ll take a nap
on the branches grand
like muscular thighs of amicable giants
planted right here in the sand
let’s run up the vermouth tree
and laze around like vagabonds
whose only inspiration is
to live
to long
and to live long
just like this horizontal wooden palace
which shall persist when we are gone
which shall resist broken innocence
for her branches always reach towards the sky
never regretting
or failing to try
its sweet earthiness
shall remind us
of the goodness of nature
as we drift to dreams
its sweet richness
fortified
reminds us of things
powerful
and magical
you and me
you and me
we’ll be befuddled atop her palms
held in her grace as we hang
as voluntary adornments
clinging on for love
returning home when the night’s to come.
until the setting sun greets us here
atop the cusp
flowerful smoke
defusing what’s become of us
while the clouds turn sad
at dusk
a must,
the rust
is true
and magnificent
and you and I
stay drunk.
Apr 8, 2016
Apr 8, 2016 at 5:46 AM UTC
let’s run to the vermouth tree
let’s run up the bark
chipping off skin
showing smooth pane
you and me
you and me
just
you and me
you and me
we’ll be kings in our altitude
we’ll drink the sap
to makes us drowsy
we’ll take a nap
on the branches grand
like muscular thighs of amicable giants
planted right here in the sand
let’s run up the vermouth tree
and laze around like vagabonds
whose only inspiration is
to live
to long
and to live long
just like this horizontal wooden palace
which shall persist when we are gone
which shall resist broken innocence
for her branches always reach towards the sky
never regretting
or failing to try
its sweet earthiness
shall remind us
of the goodness of nature
as we drift to dreams
its sweet richness
fortified
reminds us of things
powerful
and magical
you and me
you and me
we’ll be befuddled atop her palms
held in her grace as we hang
as voluntary adornments
clinging on for love
returning home when the night’s to come.
until the setting sun greets us here
atop the cusp
flowerful smoke
defusing what’s become of us
while the clouds turn sad
at dusk
a must,
the rust
is true
and magnificent
and you and I
stay drunk.
