1671

WHITE MEN ON THE PHONE

The fact is fucked,
Who says we can't share our feelings?
I feel like a beer
Some sayings on the backs of cars

Work in reverse
When bricking up the apartment
I want the new song swatches
On my desk before the plane even leaves

The committee sulks in its room
I'm amazed to see me
Cram the valise full
And proud of the depersonalization

I can quit making music any time
The fuzzy timbres
Coat the mailman
Did I mention he saved my life?

Dip the sponge in gall
Poke the priest with some silence
Come on, act like something bad
Ever happened to you for once

Or would that feel too much
Like adolescence
A restless waiting to entertain
The dignitary from Mars

He only admires the incongruous
And wishes to feel shame
Therefore rattle off everything
You've heard over the months

There are no questions
Only varieties of tea
A poison you take to be beautiful
Another one to have erections

The entire planet a golf course
The entire woman a sad dream
The entire language a grunt heap
The entire day clear and warm