Like a weird wheezing in half light
Like a solid hump of sighs
He moves his arms like a spine
And avoids in a stormless way
Sad blue needles and clay
I shall be diving into wine
I shall be chewing bones and bills
I will be as strong as a kid and as sweet as a king
Like a burning cowboy of art
Like a sticking red line of lime
He moves his arms like a bow
And avoids the warm wind
I shall be firing at hives
With my plastic pistol my rose thorns and her eyes
I shall be sitting or walking on cotton or lies
I will be needless as a skull
And as morbid as hollow coins before the end of charms
Like a bitter beard or a tank
Like a dozen of empty flats
I move my arms like Icarus
And avoid the white falling walls
I should be resonant as sounds
Like a try of drums in Newark
Like a try of drums in Newark
