A sterling whip-crack across tears horizon
and a burly wave of westward wind,
tells the story from start to end.
I was one of the dead walking around tonight.
My joints were cracking, but I smelled like light.
Observed, the new fearing the old,
couldn’t imagine what they’d been told.
My head is spinning, but so is the room.
I escaped from the vacuum tomb of doom.
My feet made a sound as they sunk through the ground.
Be glad there’s a subway beneath this town.
Do you happen to know where my hat is at?
Where it is I hang it? My natural habitat?
No, I’m not telling you either.
It isn’t up to me, to make you a believer.
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Comments
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"I have this need to (pro)create with no strings attached, like a real boy!" Pinocchio said.
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DONT PANIC
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