Sleeping Cranes
Land Legs
Patrick swears the number twenty is greenAs I'm pushing smoke between my clicking teethGrasping straws to watch a quarter note leapOr to taste all the vowels in some pretty girl's speechI'm pitching reason at a TV screenPeeling meaning off striated muscle memoryIn a muddy garden, uprooting the butterfly weedPenciled myself atop the list of people I need to please'Cause if you don't love the skin slapped on your own bonesThen what makes you think you can toss your heartTo some new set of shaking hands?Siren sprinting from some sinking nicotine teethA car stuffed with silver vapor THCThe latex paint keeping order on strips of big concreteFor million dollar minds and their blinking blackberriesI think my land legs are back under meAfter a tearful baptism by a toilet seatDreaming about having another sleepless week Lifting storm windows up for Kitty GenoveseZeroing the scales for here and LaramieWith orange and purple ribbons stretching sky in the eastDraining out the liquor with my bloodstream sieveDistill that open futures market of who I'm trying to beLetras de cancionesLeaving the girl inside her fabled antique dreamsShake my sadness into the asphalt of some west bound streetsPulling down the statues, planting burlap treesTrying to stretch my baby arms around all my eyes can meet'Cause if you don't love the skin slapped on your own bonesWhat makes you think you can toss your heartInto the bottom of the open air?And if you can't love the earthquake where you standJust look, if it's all the way out in DenverThen it must be everywhere.
From Letras Mania