it’s all consuming, rest assured
Out the other side for sure
We are beating all around the bush
Breaking bottles in a rush
Nearly ready to be fooled,
Prepare and sharpen your sharpest tools
Almost time to draw the line
From your space to mine
From your space to mine,
Share a little of the sublime..
It could have been, it might have worked
Slaves to passing selves and passions
As close as skin and full of worth
We come apart to sell the rations
Sulk away to scratch the surface
Wander off to taste the night,
Tail-lights idling in the darkness
Turning back to face the light.
You were born in the wrong place…
And now unwinding into space,
A long way out from the chosen shore,
There’s no way in when you ask for more.
You appeared in the wrong time,
The present is always out of line.
But no definition will ever suit,
Ideas wear a bold salute.
As usual I have no clue,
Of who I am or what to do,
We drift along or rush to find
The same old places that come to mind…
Clean as a whistle, sharp as a tack,
I see my mistake, and I take it back,
Thorns from a thistle, thorns from a rose
Torn between tortures, the garden grows…