Gonna blow up big, kid. Your eyes are like peepholes in the cave i'm in. Sing yourself sweeter. Hum a little freer, I'm just breathing in the ether with a smile . Dreamed I woke with the dawn, found you dancing on my neighbor's front lawn. I asked you why you smiled, you just looked at me and laughed, said i don't understand but it's been happening for a while. Hey you're a good woman, but i think its time you snuff out your man. Put your life up for auction, head back to California. They're dying out west to hear how the east was won.

But you know, you're voice is old soul-sepia tone, dripping down slow from a tube radio.

Who the hell an think in all this heat? These revelations bleed the bank but seem so free. Abstractions in my teeth, the concrete on my feet, a city ripe with conceits and a ghost that won't be born. My old shit falls around your new room, ideas and notes the wind blew, right out of your hand before you could understand the things you want to say can't find no shape in words.

I get so sad when you sing to them, smile when you sing to me, just me. Get so sad when you sing for them, smile when you sing for me, just me.

But you know, your voice is old soul-sepia tone, dripping down slow from a tube radio.

The floor creaks that we sleep on, a mattress out in the street; i'm a garden grown child, with a thin, thin skin, and absolutely no sense of the wild.