When I read, I speak,
And when I speak, I read
Words rolling off my eyes,
Filling my tongue full of free--
Style rhyming and rhythm.
The canons of thought rolling out with a boom.
Pachelbel changing your direction of flow
Through some Perverse, Obscure, Rehearsal
Suddenly Reversed.
Back where you started,
Starting over again,
With a pen in your hand
The words crowding your head.
Gotta jump and tumble
To the jiggle and flow
Of the individualistic,
Unrealistic,
Even cannibalistic
Creations that grow.
From your stylus,
Rife.
Words.
They're the stuff of life.
Feb 22, 2011
Feb 22, 2011 at 7:47 PM UTC
When I read, I speak,
And when I speak, I read
Words rolling off my eyes,
Filling my tongue full of free--
Style rhyming and rhythm.
The canons of thought rolling out with a boom.
Pachelbel changing your direction of flow
Through some Perverse, Obscure, Rehearsal
Suddenly Reversed.
Back where you started,
Starting over again,
With a pen in your hand
The words crowding your head.
Gotta jump and tumble
To the jiggle and flow
Of the individualistic,
Unrealistic,
Even cannibalistic
Creations that grow.
From your stylus,
Rife.
Words.
They're the stuff of life.
