Good god with a thick stroke of the brush
The evening sky gets a crimson blush
I rolled downhill got some time to kill
Whistling with the jingle of the leaves
Like the chord in a though seam my soul was strung
Waiting for a hand that's skilled
And young to make it howl
Make it come undone
I turn my will away from the city core
Trot towards it's gritty shore
Rattling the freight of park benches
Mistaken for angels
Past the neon cross the neo-lost
Ransack their pockets for a light
Poems recited into earliness
There is a man in horror banging on his chest
Drifting on a floe that's broken off the rest
And that stroke of paint I was talking about before is
Drying up and getting porous
In too deep
I'm in too deep
And I can't get out no more
The absence signs from a lantern
Falling right through rivers internal
Lanterns themselves
Like a marbled holiday
Covers up to mask the picture underneath
Perfect tones mixed up messily
Loaded on a knife and thrown
Into the big room
So full of birds and dust
And stone throwing thrusts
Fire the big old furnace
Baby fire until it bursts
And the man
Yes the single man watching from afar
Is nowhere close to what the score is
He's
In too deep
I'm in too deep
And I can't get out no more
I'm in too deep
And I can't get out no more
I'm in too deep
And I can't get out no more