| I was a quick wet boy
|
| Diving too deep for coins
|
| All of your street light eyes
|
| Wide on my plastic toys
|
| Then when the cops closed the fair
|
| I cut my long baby hair
|
| Stole me a dog-eared map
|
| And called for you everywhere
|
| Have I found you? |
| Flightless bird
|
| Jealous, weeping
|
| Or lost you? |
| American mouth
|
| Big pill looming
|
| Now I’m a fat house cat
|
| Nursing my sore blunt tongue
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| Watching the warm poison rats
|
| Curl through the wide fence cracks
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| Pissing on magazine photos
|
| Those fishing lures
|
| Thrown in the cold and clean
|
| Blood of Christ mountain stream
|
| Have I found you? |
| Flightless bird
|
| Grounded, bleeding
|
| Or lost you? |
| American mouth
|
| Big pill, stuck going down |