Oh, we are nothing but what always leave behind
withering into the sun
side color nearest humming bird on a wire
eyeing the cloak of the sun
Yes, we are nothing but what always leave behind
and this Canadian poetries and incantations and a bullet on a ride
I havent read them, I will not read them
for they dwell too much on times
Yes, the desert is at sea and
I left this bullwhip with the night stand
Julliard was a thousand miles away
Where are you gonna run when the clouds break?
And the sun peaks it eyes with attitude and rises itself on big lust lust
feeling in big ranges rocks
feeling in the big ranges rocks rocks
feeling in the big ranges rocks
It signifies I am being petrified in all the rolling shit we left behind
white pages of ages rocking the paint of ages
looking at your graceless depictions of life
to read
there shall be nothing left to write
and thats when I cannonball them all
I left this bullwhip with the night stand
Julliard you were a thousand miles across when you said it drops
feeling in the big ranges rocks
feeling in the big ranges rocks rocks
feeling in the big ranges rocks uh
la-la-la-la-lum