It's pretty good, the wine. The way that we look. At ten to eight in the morning. Yeah, just talkin'. Still awake in dawn and dew drinkin'. Thinkin' always.
Living alone, body shaking. Cars outside they're singing their songs. The candles wave and I get to thinking. How people see things and deal with them in different ways.
The poetry of this hangover. I don't want to think, not hard anyway. The scenery and fish, they're bad. Take another breath, another look and swallow.
It's just a thing with you. A spacious place. Infinite. Dangerous. Promising. Black with white. This night. Years of tears, emotion. Held like so... inside.
Wide awake in the candlelight. Stoned straight, crashing ocean wave. Patterns and sunset in their prime. Shoulder demons tell me how to lie. When it matters, when it matters, oh.
Fill my head with your nonsense. You can breathe my breath till I turn red. Close your eyes, try to follow me. If you close your eyes, you can become me.
Yeah, between the doors, shakin' heads. And thinking light about who you're with, where you are. Blue lightning hittin' trees and lighting roads. Won't let me get too down.
There they are. Alive, on the move, pretty young,. Still unproven though they love. Restless young zeroes in a haze. Of reckless blind faith taking their.
Held in hands, a warm cup of skin. Always taken in by peers and friends. And the heightened fears over the years. Now I know I'm not like everyone. . And in this head I see the ground you came from.
Lookin' at the world go, trying to understand. Electric wind blowin' like a demon fan. Or a symphony of hatred blowin' angst. Off an immaculate stage.
This man may have a shit load to prove. He's got to settle a score against the groove. Infinite orgasm, endless joy and pain. Like thunder to my ears, like a holy rain.
Lost all my friends pulling down my pants. Just to say hi and I'm still alive. Without a tan, tripping, naked man. Through the forest who like me has fallen.
One more astronaut in black skin of universe. One more travellin' man. With heavy tired eyes, feeling cold. Feeling cold. . Thinking around the clock of drinking on the job.
One more astronaunt in black sking. of universe. One more travelin' man. With heavy tired eyes, feeling cold. thinking around the clock of drinking. On the job, of the powdered food And piss bags, never having sex and growing old.
Not yet sonic. But I'd like to reach the point. Where I can say. Yes I am. But it always seems to be. About sensibilities. And not who's listening. No I'm not quite sonic.
Shades of gray hate influence. A constant truth put into effect. The question on a dead friends face. The tragic stance he used to take. Pissed away by circumstance.
A chair in the corner. One leg broken. And a whisper in the hall. There's frustration. Another walk around the room. A loss of direction. Before the start.
Can't think a straight line beyond the hill. It seems like a mountain. Next to an ocean, behind a thrill. Almost in my reach. . If there's a way I could.
Feel heavy. Once felt it hard. . Question an answer. For a thousand days. Give birth to the earth. Then let it drift away. . Open and flow. Just swinging forever.
Given good ground to walk around. It would mean so much to me. To see things for my still young self. Or else, I might not believe. . Whatever people say in their own ways.