Vanilla
Conformity forming meCutting me in thin air, cutting nice littles cubicles and nice little squares
Squish, squash squandered
Well I say no longer
I'm Quetzalcoatl, dancing on a lake of melted beer bottles
With my nose in boiling water, my breathing's endangered
My heart's got three chambers
One for Monday, one for Tuesday, and one for sleeping until Sunday
Now show me your cubicles, and show me your squares
Show me your living pulsating chambers so that we can compare
Put down the fighting and fit right in
And we'll say no longer
A soft vanilla sky lets me know that my end is creamy
And that there are a hundred oaks out there, surrounded by dreamy dawn
A hundred organic time machines for us to carve our names upon
And so I tag along
I hope you'll take this the right way
I want to carve our names in bark and let it develop over ages
Develop out of cages and off of these pages
Into that creamy vanilla above
On the wings of some long forgotten Mexican sun god
Poetry by lou bergs
Read 1057 times
Written on 2005-07-21 at 01:23
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Rik |
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by lou bergsLatest textsWhite and prettyOne day and all night Some steam Desert Exhale a fable |
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