Where is your head, man,
Lying in the wastecan?
Doing some hard time;
When you're through I
Thought that I'd tell you
What I could sell you
Up the river for a
Piece of my quiver, shiver,
Somebody's shaking:
Feel free to quake them
Up to the fence --
No one's going to mince
Words that
May be unspoken
Think that I'm joking?
Now I'm trying different paths,
Might you be all you can?
Hearing's not what it could
Be the best
As a friend
Stealing part of their
Soul in that slight off-
Control, pitching keys
As they wedge home
In sands of my mysteries,
Finally you'll have me
With the hills falling over
So far with those
Stay with the memories of
Twice bitten fleas streaming
Toward your hairy hat
Head of never known
Before extent.

rjw, 4/28/97

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