We're cool we're hip we're writing everything you wish you'd been doing all along. We live in attics and drink cheap beer and wear clothes of the proletariat. we smoke anything, defy death. We're the Beats back again.
harvests can be bountiful they can be wanting I've known you both ways and I know elegance no matter always a pleasure when we dance in ballrooms or barns or not at all. One of us will kiss the other's hand goodbye in a casket then dance alone.
It's gonna' be a dark lonely Sunday alone in Motel 6 with the queen who owns my soul. We met in the war overseas. I brought my darling home. She quiets noise, calms nerves, fills my empty space awhile. We'll marry when I overdose.
The clock scratches its way to 11 pm. I'm deep in my cups and celebrate. I'll wander into bed and dream of the lovers and enemies I slayed in their time.
I see everything in black and white. Black man, white man, shades of grey spells the end, my friend. I always loved you and I'll miss us gone. We crossed the color divide and God ****** died for it.
There's a calm in chaos silence while the world fades and clarity of reason in madness. "There's more good than bad in this one", is the best they can say over this bleeding out corpse.