Everything was wasted, tasted, face it kid. You were never what they wanted. I'm a bird on a tree, I'm a fish outside. The city is a breast dangling from the sky.
Musical ladders. Leaning on mountains. Bathed in white laughter. Under the sun. . Somebody's birthday. Came stumbling towards us. Wrapped in green gladness.
In a land made of strings. Where the hills are balls of twine. And the doctor knits the sun. Down in a baseball diamond mine. . And the mozzarella sweaters.