Post by moseley on Apr 14, 2019 5:32:57 GMT -6
once upon, whence again, the tales start, and never end
in the basement of my soul the difference is only in the packing
it is all cotton fluff, weeviled and seeded as no gin will pull them
unfrocked, but shaven clean and neatly, with a starfoam face
I meet the expecting world in a grand cavalcade of repetition
and in life meaning is all in the repeating
some deference maybe as I still wish to persuade and subvert myself
in my pious, errant, reverent, vestigial ways
got that momenchance knowing just how I look in the rear view
when I was loved, I was never more ugly, never more, close that door
I have seen too much, known much more and figured into a new reason
and did little to build it, just drifting in the guitar solo nuances
of Maggot Brain and the taste of the funk when the mothership nears
such a story, not much a story, none really are, poor Solomon
something is new under the sun, my discovery, sure, of what was always there
but everything, everything must go, must go away
I don't know what to say, not what to do.....
but however high we can throw the noodle on the wall
so it might stick or roll or fall,
some slinky noodle, oh boy, oh joy, lets flail and wag it now
because we can, salted or not, give the plaster a sticky test
water on the table, water in my cup, just about had it all with water
well, there it is, it is, it is
perhaps I will just drink up
in the basement of my soul the difference is only in the packing
it is all cotton fluff, weeviled and seeded as no gin will pull them
unfrocked, but shaven clean and neatly, with a starfoam face
I meet the expecting world in a grand cavalcade of repetition
and in life meaning is all in the repeating
some deference maybe as I still wish to persuade and subvert myself
in my pious, errant, reverent, vestigial ways
got that momenchance knowing just how I look in the rear view
when I was loved, I was never more ugly, never more, close that door
I have seen too much, known much more and figured into a new reason
and did little to build it, just drifting in the guitar solo nuances
of Maggot Brain and the taste of the funk when the mothership nears
such a story, not much a story, none really are, poor Solomon
something is new under the sun, my discovery, sure, of what was always there
but everything, everything must go, must go away
I don't know what to say, not what to do.....
but however high we can throw the noodle on the wall
so it might stick or roll or fall,
some slinky noodle, oh boy, oh joy, lets flail and wag it now
because we can, salted or not, give the plaster a sticky test
water on the table, water in my cup, just about had it all with water
well, there it is, it is, it is
perhaps I will just drink up
