What lie did you tell to get here?
What trick did you need to turn,
to get here…
- who's asking I ask m'self
- here
here where the water's all turned t'wine,
an' not that nasty old Ripple, real wine,
sweet, sweeter than old Mogen David,
boiled down, redis- still, still ness, with a twist,
still says this
is the way this song is sung, first verse.
Second's no worse, could be the chorus,
like breaths of fresh air, in the middle of a cry,
we can sing some sense into someday,
if we get through this night alive.
Memories bid me stay awoken,
jokin' air of jongluers,
I acknowledge, I recall
I played Pressed Rat and Warthog,
on that rosewood recorder,
I gave to that guy doing his duty to God's country,
a couple days after Earth Day One, when we was with
Ol' Pogo, we seen the enemy we was to love,
and my part loved 'em, even then,
yeah, even
then, this was where the road I walked was leading,
otherwise,
I'd be gone, and would have missed, the noise,
around bedtime, real, but similar
to Fifties TV families,
these kids being all PBS+ level average skill with X-box,
these little funny paper people
some times sing silly songs,
that I then learn is K-pop,
but lyrics made up, while
running up two flights of stairs with ten feet
pounding a rhythm in my brain,
pounding we will we will rock you, with
we emphasis, stomping and laughing,
odd these five kids, unchurched, sing together for fun.
To tell the truth, incredible, is the lie, see,
my self, I tested this, I wondered
was it something in the water,
and I found,
if it was, its all been drunk by now,
still, submission to your own peace of mind,
that effort, gentle, easy entreaty, that's
wise enough to call magic… to the nth. Amen.
Titles are after thoughts sometimes. April
