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Wednesday, July 7, 2010

sad crying clown in an iron lung

Hell hath no fury
Like a mind in a hurry
Repeating sermons in tongues
Wearing through the holes in our lungs
Our hearts need more resting

So let it be known
Our thoughts won't be shown
Before ends of friends show their faces
Carcinogens begin again leaving familiar places
If we hand fingers, we'd count our blessings

Show up some time
You and I will chew the rind
Of hospitalized hoaxes we have to offer
As slow as the grind we pursue with such honor
Filled with the bliss we've been investing

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