Big Sleep You And Your Blue Shirt
you and your blue shirt you and your blue shirt You and your auto-pilot circling through the room high above the bed looking like a mobile unit
you and your tennis-shoes birds in a cage and clouds outside drifting by the window like big ships you and your blue shirt you and your blue shirt
you and your sea-shell eyes and your pop-song lies watching time go by like a parade on the fourth of July you and your drunk friends
you and your bird in cage your little house near the mountains and all the sentences you made up you and your big mug of coffee every morning since 1972 you and your blue shirt you and your blue shirt
you and your mouthful of dreams and your filthy hands on someone else's skin you and all your tenderness and your kisses soft with gin you and your motherless mind
you and the mountains you the director of unconscious scenery calling black jets to soar her soul while she's not awake you and your blue shirt
you and your blue shirt...
you and your subway evenings you and your list of airplanes how many crossed the sky above your house last night? the night before? you and your digital door
you and all the wives you had and all that talk about your dad you and your telephones your twilight zones you and your songs about the ocean you and your blue shirt you and your blue shirt
