In a world of diamonds
and ruby highlights,
one learns that
looking for patterns
in a patch of grass
never works.

No, patterns are far
more plausible.
They play with the mind,
some call it a safe place,
warm and sugared up.
Others call it a curse.

In my world of shades,
a pattern is light
at the end of this long
tunnel pushing further
away until all I can
see is her smile and laugh.

My pattern is no
ordinary pattern.
My pattern is one
to drive one's head crazy
with no direction
heading back.

No, my pattern is no
ordinary pattern.
And yet, your pattern
still haunts me.

Life is like
a can opener;
only if you use it
to it's full extent
can you truly enjoy it.

If it's left on the shelf,
it's experience is minute.
However, in a world of
Campbell oceans and corn mountains,
the world needs explorers.

There is diversity in the world
of canned creatures.
But without a can opener,
the baby can breathe no air,
feel no warmth.

Without a can opener,
we have no life,
no blowin' leaves in the wind,
no gazing into a lover's eyes,
no moonlight to dance in your mind