Friday, December 25, 2009


i think she needs a pen.
i think she's right on track

he's got a fast car.
and she needs to get away.
they're not afraid to crash.
it happened all year long.
pathways to the moon
rockets to the sea
and oceans inbetween
they'll mock them.

from the background painted credits with gasoline need.
horses hooves to engines.
i think she needs a pen to roar.
he thinks he needs the cash to.
but mostly just belief to.

beside herself with grief.
beside her he's undone.
all these preconceived notions have withered
so sit beside her.
sit and wait gently, defiant son.
listen and talk straight

to see her soul
to see her face
unveiled beneath the golden sun.

your darling, then.
she'll stand.
burn the maps.
draw the maps.
and then, with pens.
take hands.
and run.

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