Monday, March 24, 2008

A Little Tickle

suds are moving in the brain of door

I switch from coke
and I’m a connoisseur

come lather method in the madness

it seems the festival of sadness
is sinking

and there’s a record
in the mind of a quitter

he don’t give a haircut
in the blind, getting litter

feels so good, told me

insecurity’s attracting every flirter

see you tomorrow, gnome

there’s a rhythm when
you don’t know what you’re doing

two years to blow away


you take me
for granite

when you’re a woman

I get in my pocket for fun

when you shave me again

I will be soda
I wish I could


you have turned into a Fred

I can feel you almost sail
closer closer to the tide

licking down his quiet drag

let me hand it off

you set up a berry aisle
Kate, explain how you made me feel

make me feel like cake
everything of everything

just be near your history
don’t you know
I’m funereal


call me on the telephone
little baby turtle

that’s when I hear music
so I get off the scale

and my heart will heal
in the wrong direction

oh Christian
more friction

have you ever stopped a rainbow

and the keys to the jailer
want to keep me in check

understand the flower
of a little home


I forgot my prayer
summer’s gonna come

I got an ankle to the top of my head
I started climbing from the bottle

I was up by you
a bleeding knot

I want to get straight
but I hit it on turf

remember your house couldn’t bid on mine

little ball of string
I had to change my stroke

I had shunned the terrier