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
Hiawatha

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