Cool water.... . I want to fly like a scroll unfolding. Float to a stone ledge. Wait for a moment 'fore spilling. Words to a hedge. And going away. Like a poem closed in a dresser drawer.
I'm a, I'm a, I'm a, I'm a chimney sweeping man. You see the black lines. On the backs, on the backs of my hands. . I planted all the gardens. I sent off all the hand-typed letters to the empty shells on high.
Breathe life to the street from the mouth. Those ruby red lips have much to give. Pull life from the land with your capable hands. Those life loving beautiful broken hands.
I will not have a child, I will be wild. And not produce meat for your slaughter. No more cannon fodder. . Company whip cracks at the break of dawn. Back break work the whole day long.