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Saturday, December 02, 2006

Do Not Use Elevators

fall, a time of slowly dying, cool and restful we find
our protagonist, prostrate in the peach grove cool and resting,
falling leaves cover his half-naked body
he'd have more clothes if he wasn't half-crazy
and just days ago, maybe wasn't

summer, the months of beauty and life,
between youth and death, among the flowers
and lightning and showers
the peaches still growing, a mind still unfolding
pretty pictures of people
leaving tall buildings,
direct from the top floors,
saves electricity, he thinks it’s pretty
and makes so much sense, and no one is crazy
until someone tells them

(instrumental interlude)

Spring finds our man half hungover from happiness
Of the particular
Kind spring is famous for
Wonderful colors embracing the canvas
Now glowing with glorious
Feelings so fabulous
Future so bright, holds more promise
Than children, who having
Intelligence rivaling Hawking’s,
leave adults gawking at
developed theories
of things still unsolved by
the best minds of elders
but promises die
and children don’t keep so well
so don’t make predictions

(temp drop, chord changes)

Winter is not quite
As cold as his body now
Floating so stiffly
Beneath the permafrost
Delicate beauty
Fed by the sunlight
A few flowers remaining
Despite the temperature
White silence settles
So cold and relaxing
No satisfaction
Is found in her face tonight
Black is so flattering
For such a frown
And a false form of peace comes
And shelters the family

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