Ughh.
I feel like a millionaire.
living in a busted old shack.
If silence were currency,
if freedom were monetary,
I'd be the richest man on the planet.
If love could be exchanged .
for capitalist gain.
I'd be the wealthiest main.
ever set foot on this terrain.
And I'd plant my apple seeds.
in all of your backyards.
so that you too.
can feel the pleasure ...of being alive!
It's not that hard,
but our receptors have been dulled.
by repetitive commands.
Little subtle suggestions .
Inserted into .
certain corners of our brains.
We act out of place .
when we conform,
when we become complacent.
to their demands.
Even way out here,
still wish that time would stop .
and allow me to complete things.
before the dime would drop.
There's just so much to do,
so many books to read,
so much more to write,
so many hooks to sing.
I'd like to record.
every song that i wrote.
But that would take more.
than the time that I have left on Earth .
to do it.
believe me.
It's all in the cards.
Well, then again, it's also in ..
my right ventricle, lung scars!
I'm sorry for bleeding. My last wishes that you will find a dying happiness that stands to test afraid we're seeing.
The sun rises up over Shemung River. Red paints bright orange,
glowing reflections on the mist.
Each sparkling particle.
on my windshield explodes!
with blinding light!
As I wind my way to work.
through the frozen hills,
Oncoming cars engulf in flames!
Just like the Lucid dream.
My walk into what I imagine.
the possibilities are endless.
Reality so maliable.
I think that it's time.
to make some time... for us.
My darling,
we've been neglecting each other!
We unite like an eclipse!
We mate like gods and goddesses.
The backyard looks like a graveyard.
Post storm.
The forest is a ghost town.
Tumble weeds and tree bones.
Screams heard post mortem.
modern coyote walk the roadway.
They reclaim the old days.
and the names of elders lost.
They proclaim.
That The new era is upon us,
heralding the return .
in each howled syllable,
breath transmuted .
floating for a smoke signal.
S.o.s. spelled out.
like the welcome sign.
above the bug bleached, deer skull .
and turkey vulture scalp.
Change my backyard.
The spirit of the Iroquois,
the hearts of Six nations.
broken by the Revolutionary War.
Heavy color.
Hey there, blue collar...
Are you staring at the clock?
I know that going home.
isn't really what you want .
to those screaming kids,
and that always bitching wife.
I know you always wish .
that you didn't get a life ..like this, suggested and politely, no,
tonight, you must have other plans.
You hope you might.
come home early enough .
to catch her with another man .
and be done with it.
I was born in this way,
but I've also added much to my DNA.
It's like downloading software.
broad band waves.
Now, I don't get sick like you.
And i don't age,
but there is a downside .
to not be able to cry .
some of the things that made me human.
