Bodi Bill Straw Hats
cover bands cover up lives with ears flipping over,
with elephant ears boiling in a tin pot
that poisening has to end somewhere on my way to the
ocean,
on my way to the gold mine
shifting moods go by like summer old fashion,
some are old fashioned
a hasty heart attack, that wish to leave no goddamn
goodbyes behind,
we go past doors closed from the inside,
past men wearing beautiful straw hats, there must be
something
to all that
