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My face is leaned up on her |
|
And blocks a coptic smile |
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She got to understated |
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She got the car crash hands |
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She got my size ten meat hooks |
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She got the gangees tongue |
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She knows the lawless shan lands |
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She walks a modal mile |
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I stay sub-merged for two days |
|
I might go back for three |
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I'm backing off till morning |
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To follow baseline leads |
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I'm standing still on tenth street |
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I'm not the only one |
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I want the night to stretch us |
|
There's plenty left to know |
|
I walked a million marchers |
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And I got a million hands |
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It's all just blistered slipstream |
|
It's all just space to run |
|
I pull the budda hamstring |
|
I'm looking homer tides |
|
I clean the pipe head scrapings |
|
I'm not the only one |
|
The street breath is upon me |
|
We walk the river miles |
|
The ageless city waiting |
|
In gospell bus stop eyes |
|
You're asking more than reason |
|
She ransom freestyle flow |
|
She not the only one too |
|
I'm not the only one |
|
She wait with dread upon her |
|
She wait but not for I |
|
I try the sky for reason |
|
It just won't trust me still |
|
I know there's more I see, I |
|
I know there's more to tell |
|
She wait down by the river |
|
She knows but keeps it well |
|
She knows but keeps it well |
|
She knows but keeps it well |
|
She knows but keeps it well |
|
She knows but keeps it well |
