On monday
I will have to brush shoulders
with artless people
in an artless world
but for now
I have Songs from a Room
and Dave Bixby
and the stumbling hours of a Sunday afternoon

Threadbare and naked
Shattered in ruins in front of you
Cold trembling leaves of your autumn
To my naive spring
Here
All I ask
Is for your limps
To unhinge
For you
To let me in
For me
To loose myself
To you
For however long
That may be
Take this longing from my tongue
And all the useless things these hands have done

Grindin'
With the cogs
In Moloch
When we could be diving for pearls

Drum Gold
Is my tobacco
It has character
And I had a girl once
Who liked Cutters Choice
And I told her it had more additives
And that it burnt hotter
And that Drum Gold had more character
And we spent nights exploring each other's bodies
And smoking Drum Gold
Which she adopted
But that ended
Like all good things
And I've forgotten a lot of those spent nights
And now she smokes Golden Virginia

I Love my baby
But my baby is bi
She loves me too
And girls on the side

I dont know what made her
Live through this dichotomy
Maybe it's her DNA
Or maybe society

The aliens looked at earth
And its civilisations
Like we see mayflies
And their small streams
And they looked at civilisations
Wax and wane
On a small blue marble
And one said
"Shall we stop it?
That agar plate has gone a bit out of hand"
To which the other replied
"No, they'll tire themselves out eventually"

My foot
on the small of your back
Your lips
at the foot of my ****
We rise
and fall
together