O gloomy hazy heirs of Oakland, if it weren’t for your less-than
desirable height I might love you
I spilled my Boston absurd imaginations into your night and got
nothing back but muffled vibrations
Your ******* statues aren’t quite a turn-on to the starry-eyed mill-
ions who walk your streets each day
Excess scores of madmen seep out of your unwashed pores
Was it your love that kept me gazing at cloudy skies?
Was it your hands that built the offices of unkempt loneliness?
The vacant-eyed gargoyles won't stop staring at my book of angels
where I keep my holy...
Your dumb ears refuse to listen to that which is greater than my
childhood dreams
Grand Ave. took me to the top of the 80 and I cried and shouted
obscenities of pure joy
“Beautiful! Oh beautiful! People!” “Perfection! You crave perfection!”
“Attention! Help me you beautiful people!”
Feb 28, 2012
Feb 28, 2012 at 3:27 PM UTC
O gloomy hazy heirs of Oakland, if it weren’t for your less-than
desirable height I might love you
I spilled my Boston absurd imaginations into your night and got
nothing back but muffled vibrations
Your ******* statues aren’t quite a turn-on to the starry-eyed mill-
ions who walk your streets each day
Excess scores of madmen seep out of your unwashed pores
Was it your love that kept me gazing at cloudy skies?
Was it your hands that built the offices of unkempt loneliness?
The vacant-eyed gargoyles won't stop staring at my book of angels
where I keep my holy...
Your dumb ears refuse to listen to that which is greater than my
childhood dreams
Grand Ave. took me to the top of the 80 and I cried and shouted
obscenities of pure joy
“Beautiful! Oh beautiful! People!” “Perfection! You crave perfection!”
“Attention! Help me you beautiful people!”
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