What comes from ashes, you would know.
I've seen you there, fire in your eyes.
Your modesty allows me slow
Pursuit, perhaps I should disguise
My tongue's intentions in a song,
Or dance my way inside your head
And bring you back where you belong--
Oak headboard,  my ancestral bed.
You may see me, firewalking fool--
Head topped with bells, a rubber soul--
Salute you with a burnished tool,
Your misused heart my certain goal.
Now close your eyes, imagine me
In your embrace, in ecstacy.

Searching for my soul/
Finding myself in wrong places/
Lying on a bed of nails/
Bug-infested crucifix blanket/
Hitman in a hall of smoke and mirrors/
Hot broken glass slippers, firewalking/
Vanilla skies have fallen prey/
Metallic wings bent out of shape/
Mobius-stripped down to the bone/
Until they break/
Homemade wolverine claws/
Scratching at the surface of a cracked mask/
The real face has leprosy/
This meal tastes like ashtray/
A naked lunch of creamed corn/
Life is a waiting room/
Death is a closed door/
The lady in the radiator serenades me/
But the birds forgot the beetles/
And turned cannibal/
It's happening again/
I don't know what day it is/
Time is a tangled pile of tripped haywire.../

Pins in my head/
My own antipop consortium/
There is no bubble/
That's why I'm struggling/
How can I not be myself?!!/
There is no "real" me/
Obsession is a ghost in a shell/
Two charred braincells that short-circuit & spark/
Cross-chatter, but the words are all slushed/
Giant tarantula in the bedroom/
Reality is a scramblesuit./