For my Beloved
Dangling on the cross. A new suicide blooms from the epilog of a secret life. We blew up the house of the rising sun and set a fire in cairo that rages still. So what? Let's go to bed. The wheel will spin regardless of whether i write this poem. Easy blue eyes. The world will crack under the weight of your logic. The underground needs their distinction, and the overlords know that perception is reality. Ruby Tuesday needs a new name to dream on. And everyone else is sleeping at their tv, chewing on the apple of sodom. So when lightening crashes sweet dreams into the mainline, we will fall to pieces and regroup on fascination street.
A suitcase of anomalies, and a talking monkey with a graphing calculator abolishes and transcends. Negates his own voice with his own voice. I watch you straddle the world like a bottle of smoke and just one fix. I put a spell on you. i whisper your dreams come true in a zero sum game against the world. We've already won, but if they realize that we'll lose. So keep our secret safe, because smiles are guide signs home, and all else is mere fact.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7HZ7JpfmoXk&feature=fvst
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