beckon to me with quivering lips
as I stare into the sun of all my innumberable objects
that swam in the days in where
our skin would touch

and i laughed
and sighed
and told you that I think
your the moon thats cradles my bed

life in junction
life in motion
under my little feet
Im hungover
and i sing out loud all the songs that you
hate to hear

maybe you are not for me
nor I you
and Im just too much
Im breaking your basket with all my eggs
and my childhood is incomprehensible
and who I must be
clings to you shirt

and I am detached from your mind
I see you as I as my coffee in the morning
twice a year
and Im followed by herds of
paper , and no paper

simmer me down from this restless place
that isnt so restless
where i can turn off all these machines
so that I am detached from this
society
I despise so much

lay me out naked on a tree
but only by myself
and only with you
or you

I have found a new passage way
and I find my remarkable exsistence
pulled up higher
by means of these new words I utter
from pure distraction
this is my distraction
from all this cruelty

beckon to me with quivering lips
as I stare into the sun of all my innumberable objects
that swam in the days in where
our skin would touch

and I laughed
and sighed
and told you that I think
your the moon thats cradles my bed

life in junction
life in motion
under my little feet
Im hungover
and I sing out loud all the songs that you
hate to hear

maybe you are not for me
nor I you
and Im just too much
Im breaking your basket with all my eggs
and my childhood is incomprehensible
and who I must be
clings to you shirt

and I am detached from your mind
I see you as I see my coffee in the morning
twice a year
and Im followed by herds of
paper , and no paper

simmer me down from this restless place
that isnt so restless
where I can turn off all these machines
so that I am detached from this
society
I despise so much

lay me out naked on a tree
but only by myself
and only with you
or you
or you who dispersed me as a child

I have found a new passage way
and I find my remarkable exsistence
pulled up higher
by means of these new words I utter
from pure distraction
this is my distraction
from all this cruelty

The records for the souls
Willing ears unaware of the tolls

The weapons with reasons innumberable,
To break that delicate hold.
Every man grasps until his grip becomes old

Displaced memories filled with rage,
Happiness converted into covetry,
Longing for when you were bold.
Begging to undo what rhythms unfold

Mold, grow,
Be what you set out to be,
With this tree that's already grown.

On your back, looking up,
In bliss, or with your being torn.

Down the middle, and at every side
begging from the skies where only the devils preside.

Call his name, he has your name written on his line,
I tell you my brothers, what's been sold isn't our time.

Wake up, we aren't slumbering,
we are just fine.