Native Nod Bread
I rationalize my shaking feet and legs as a constant
rhythm flowing through my body, but that doesn't explain
my tight neck or oily pores on my back. My spine is
clearly pleading for release. No, it's definitely not
just a song. It's a beat and it's racing past your pad,
through your pad, at light speed, rendering everything in
its path obsolete. So cut the cord that strangles your
head, and feed me bread. Let me legs shake me to sleep
and don't wake me when I sweat on my sheets
