Spirit bland as black ink Am I a victim of my own melancholic wings? That is? Is I smudged and spreading, That my darling - won’t work… Darling all I read is your headlines…
Dreamer… don’t close your eyes The vultures are circling all around… Acid or flower child… The people are counting up from the ground. As the battery light dies in your torch
In weakness - I love you. And I hope to hold you. I mean - I mean - I want to hold you… To hold you - time after time, Time after time all, all over—again…
I have watered a well spring Till its continents floated by And still I’ve had springs run dry Leaving me nothing more to say I have watered a well spring And poured a little salt
I have those ashtray blues Not wanting to walk Another day in these shoes Singing these butt end songs It’s never easy enough for us But still they contain Some essence of what
