Basking in the sun

Sometimes I think I ain't angry enough
To write voraciously and devour fears like heroes from before
I think I lack anger to strike those fits of thunder
With words, like my heroes from before
Where have all causes gone? Where are they now ?
Have all ghosts, enemies and opinions did die out?
'Tis a world of bland confusion, no guidance on what to be
We know there's no illusion, but that's not as bad as lack of reality
Cries, mourns, vacancy signs, rummaging stores, to men that won't die, for medicine abhors to let down the good statistical numbers of society.
My heroes they hang from a crux with their name
We all know who they are, they died out of fame, but are they to blame, as being different gets quickly sold out
For we will never be them, although we'll look the same.
'Tis the nature of what this is, basking in the sun, all is given, none to miss
As we waste ourselves and our good looks out.

The strongest bitterness set aside

The strongest bitterness set aside
Throw your guile at will
Roving by the bosom wide
You're sat and got your fire through
Please don't say we never warned
Of cracks and crickets and holes they're on store
Your rocky winding way had found a silent sound to say
You shouldn't be here anyway

The peaks
The vaults
The lows
And downs
Awake
Your dreams
Do know
The calling for service is right now climbing his way up to you.

Do run, pretend
No sings of your anger betray that you're a man
Resign, resound, the bliss, the vow
Cushion borrow to the morning cause you're certain to miss out
You'll run away

No home ward town.
Starry skies beneath the clouds sand dusting windows you'll look out
For clear bright thoughts, of paradise lost, of thatchery remains of your guts are the ones to blame

Chrysalis, crown cold, cross torment's fools gold
Cross oceans, do dare, but your cowardly compulsion will follow you there

So lay your pride to the bones of your ancestors dead and gone
Give up you weary feeling of projecting iron and stone.
Loitering persuasions to breed your soul afoul,
done notions of corny potions to guide you out in style
Get any help you can
Your time has come my son to be a man.

All Good Cowboys Have Chinese Eyes

Hey country man of other tides
I'll send you back to Koreatown
Where all good cowboys have Chinese eyes
I'll send you right down with my gun
The one I call one way ticket to paradise.

You crossed up my path in a funny day
But lo! What an eye you have for the fool
From your flock I'm aware you have strayed
Sun burst burning outer rims of crossed eye turning in on you
But you misspelled
Your decision, badly born
The effects typed bound to mourn
I'm sending you straight up to hell
With my gun as she exacts her dues

And how does it feel?
To be rolling, not strolling, moaning you deal ain't fair
As it all crumbles before your very narrow sights
Nowhere do they stare
An the last they see the light
for it's your turn to roll over and fall downhill

I'm sending you back to the setting sun
Where promises are paid to the bone
And harvest come in to rein on you
I'm sending you out of town, out of time, out of dimes and keep them spares for a change
You won't be buying tickets,
Seats, clothes, guns or booze
In the Devil's prairies all money is just the same.

Milkman bring me no more blues

Milkman bring me no more blues
No blues as milk and letters from and to
Mystery messages on bottles of chained up dairy products
I can't even drink
Or swallow.
Mailman send no more excuse
For delivering the blues that I ain't used to
Before breakfast I got a rule of reading no bad news.
Set set up a fort outside
And your siege machinery
My breakfasts will dine and wide
Act like the message you bring and say you're giving up too
Milkman bring me no more blues.

Set out to undo

Cover crystal clear courteousness with crispy crusts of cracked up calls
I can't event tell if she's gone or where to
She's left no farewell note or goodbye words
She's just set out to undo
Certainties collected openings by one time fools
Sent no letter of excuses, disappeared out of sight and tore out gleaming mind of phony futures
I never believed in
Fallacious desires of continuity I never even had
Are the ones we shared
Are the guilt she's had to bear
For taking that away, novelty stories done and sent out to edit
and I was the bit cut out to the floor
So what's more? I never came in for the long run and
then I'm done and think that ain't good enough
To hell with my fairy tales told on to you
I love you
I'm lying
I love you
At least honestly trying to.

Upstream there still

Thwarting hats to humble scorny flats the robe begins to roll downhill
Recurring the images they go, forever redone, rewritten, rerun
Recombined as long tall shirts of short fat Sally,
Air is breezing upstream there still
And forces, they're courageous, and smart and righteous too
None the louder, not too embrace brails of fuming ententes
Solaced outrageous, to gore them be to breach and sand
The more the better, the more the lesser,
the smarter the most annoying one.
Rogues.
Them be rogues
Thieves
Let them be
Rocky mountains easy tips,
Get me a Coke
Or a ticket to Disneyland.

Thoughts on Bus 221

Verborragic behaviors of oysters and kings
The ones we don't think our values can meet
For all months they be gone later or now
No freedom can hang them up to your wall

Creative sentiments are the thorns we must wear
To be the one, the savior of sons we’re not to have
Have tell told you what you're supposed to know?
For I guarantee man, for my part I never been told
So, is this finally my one true role?

Sham it is hidden behind a desk
Crimson days of gray skies we want to forget.
These times being lost not being me.

The spirit of our times they want know
Jesters and flames and no delays
All we go through is God’s jolly good joke
So it’s about time you get used

For rests and forests running down the fields
Thompson guns ablaze on top of the hills
Aiming satisfied, and I won't keep quiet
Till I run put of breath and my mind tells me I'm good.

Spitting out words, for folly for hurt
Story’s been gone a long time
For every begun, there is a done one
And my breath it is run, but couldn’t yet spell out my mind.

Underground way bound is the phony of tales.
Morning erupting to high lining veils
Of tempest a vision the set it is sun
Dancing around the maypole one

Rejecting all figments at towering costs
Hardly and posing what reasons are tossed
Crying and dying and lying around
Fires and passion are dead underground

Simmering love songs don’t get you okay.
Quit mumbling go stumbling your words on the way
No sense it has made no sense it will do
Forever one figures untruths out of blue

And I who have never and never have known
Am the prophet of our undefined roles
The days they are strange them boys will be girls
Them hearts will be thorn by whoever will
It's public come grab, take all with your hand
And make sense of what I just can't understand.

And the story’s been spit, for folly for hurt,
And words they been gone a long time
For every begun, there is a done one
My breath it is run, but I couldn't yet throw up my mind.