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Lyrics
Sage
Don’t you see how, in their toil
The tendrils claw their climb up
Without hope, to break the soil
Even in the desert there is life
Give me one more flower
For me the discourse of hatred
Is always intellectual
Always lodged in notions
Of race and inequality
Is It Benign?
Is it better than it sounds?
It’s not malignant, that we know of
Yet still, it could be worse next round
So bigger hope is status quo
Though not harmful, still a tumor
Music to ill ears, discord to the doctor
Its growth and reach, fortunately a rumor
One can only hope at most, it just elicits laughter
Go, Do, Be
Better to oar the murderous wave
Than drown without a fight
Better to forge the darkness brave
Than leaderless under the light
Notify me
Just to go and do and be
Tiny Racing Hearts
Little junkie birds’
Beaks deep in feeders
Like needles seeking veins
Smack-starved pinions beat
To the sound of survival
Dusk and Waning Moon
That sparkle highway you set out on
Newborn, flat, and sleek
Buckled, wayward, empty now
Not so much the sunset beat
Say It Again
With a “wake-up,” “wake-up” call
I hit my alarm clock
You say I stick too many pins in your balloons
I say you have too many balloons
You say I dash all your, your longest dreams
I say it’s time to wake up, wake up, wake up
Night War
In the waning daylight hours
The night now near seeks war
With stars as shields and lunar swords
While hope of morning’s far
The rays relent, their shadows fast
The dusk surrenders, sends
On twilight’s fields the battle’s cast
Black as night descends
Within
Live life within
Winged
Angeled the timbreled morning knights
Bright on scaffolds, might on might
I often wonder what it’s like
To feel the angel’s hair
Movie Magic Matters
A far cry from the first King Kong
The creatures now look real
And that’s perhaps the problem now
They’ve lost their literary feel
Fortunate Field
Found along the way
In a patch called Lucky
Along the way
This is not the high time I envisioned
This is not the way
What was I to do
In a patch called Lucky
Along the way?
Toothpaste
Swallow that foaming slush
You call your mouth
Throng Song
Ah, the masses, ebb and flow
In mobs and stadium waves
Hivemind-like their thoughtless tides
Ah, the sea, (and all) the drops it hides
Footprints, If You Like
Lightened of the pain of risk and all that it entails
I fly now, skyward free, without burdens, without sails
Mouth gulps air at untold speed, enough to live and tell
Of baseless qualms, now far away, now a smokey trail
You can find your soul
In your prime, all of the time/
You can find control
All of the time, it’s your time/
You can find it all
It’s your time, all of the time
Little Jesus
Rise and shine little Jesus
Can I put you in my pocket?
Mania
There’s a time like this in every land
When up is down and hope is sand
And all that’s left is fear at hand
To fuel the fires that hatred fans