Clouddead Bike (2)
why?:
edison, i've fixed my glasses like new!
dose one:
wishing coins well, off into the bad sleep well.
why?:
reaching to quiet the man made of metal and brick.
dose one:
sleeping in woman's clothes, naked walls filling my eyes.
why?:
kneading the knotted, cramped muscles; the head of a nut.
dose one:
holding my place in a necklace collection, whala!
why?:
scraping the hardened, dead mortar from under my nails.
dose one:
weeding out sounding like movies, why i'd rather read.
why?:
sparring the volunteer flower, the beautiful guest.
dose one:
greetings, my god given name is adam in love.
why?:
edison, i've fixed my glasses like new!
dose one:
wishing coins well, off into the bad sleep well.
dose one, why?:
de, sha, vu. cats, clipped, whiskers, x.
dose one:
dear jon,
she's no longer calling, and the sun just keeps coming up.
why?:
dear adam,
i'm dropping out of art school.
i'm thinking of becoming a machete man in the rainforest.
dose one:
my box is made, the pills erect, it's one cut cookie syndrome.
the pill that's huge and swallows other pills.
it's jar bottom right below me, and not a spot of cork above,
why can i barely see exactly where the loop is marked?
it cuts in, i cut out, pidagurpidagle says hello,
and hunts the pilot light within the heater monolith she prays to.
why?:
art museums make me want to kill myself,
i understand now why pidagurpidagle pulls on the door
even when she knows it's locked shut.
people surround themselves with pets
to deny the fact that they're alone, most of the time.
"stop the world, i want off."
-easy axess.
chorus:
are you scared the album will end before the doorbell rings,
and you'll be left to greet your guests
with a tied tongue, cold lunch, and spent wick candle?
dose one:
looking for an explanation everywhere except in.
as i stuff my face from dirty pot,
and greasy spoon, and sweaty peas, and buttered rice,
and the water's running. i think ribs like rosebush branches.
flies in eyes, the corners of, and sally struthers don't be depressed.
i've made it to the mystery of mona lisa's mouth.
why?:
the streets smell like beer and exhaust this christmas.
don't be depressed, but no one wants to rent movies
to an out-of-towner without a credit card.
i did nothing today, but walk a blind man to his bus stop.
chorus
dose one, why?:
as the floor boards creek and the pipes ping and pong beneath you...
dose one, why?:
mother nature made the aeroplane, and the submarine sandwich,
with the steady hands and dead eye of a remarkable sculptor.
she shed her mountain turning training wheels
for the convenience of the moving sidewalk,
that delivers the magnetic monkey children
through the mouth of impossible calendar clock,
into the devil's manhole cauldron.
physics of a bicycle, isn't it remarkable?
