Grass Skirt & Fruit Hat

[Doseone]

I've been here, sat between railings with god named Celeste for
Look Adam to establish yourself won't really burn off that fat
Or we'll call it fat, that runs you near
Archetypes that have been tested and failed continually tested and failed, god named Celeste has always akin to catch stones at dead clock
Fortunately she's beautiful in the corners of her eyes and happy visible, "Good bye"
She blinks while roughage falls from my skirt, my skirt roughage falls from my skirt
Dripping with face lost I've the frozen meats and convention center specs
To build a mirrored phallus right here, 10 miles high, for everyone to imitate
But the drawings in the dust are filling up with dust again, and I've
Just spent that 100 dollars friends, help though, hook line and sinker
If I could cry and hug my cat all night I'd still be empty
Or putting change in the meter for an entire block of people I know
From bumps on a log, kite flying and chicken choking and running in place
I'm stuffing mixed messages in bottles and dropping them in gutters
And when someone gets it they'll be right where I was, and maybe that'll help
So one day when the snake sucks its tail, I'll find a pot of gold and tons of letters left for me in a matchbox
And that would be idle like grown men in tights, with fists, capes and eyebeams, I-beams
I've been here, sat between poles with god name Sid for
Look Adam to reanimate yourself won't really lop off that foot or we'll call it foot that carries you off
Mezzanines that burst into situated right as you left situated, tsk tsk
God named Sid has waited a long long time to say "I told you so"
So consequentially he's eaten by a bear and happy unfortunate
Goodbye he thinks while a tangelo falls from my hat
Shush, I say to the drones of potato people whistling my social security number
Some mailman, to be named later, must not be doing his job
I'm thinking of when the nuclear thing happens and I'm the only one left
A ruin that doesn't look like the movies, it was made before, between
7 breakfast, 12 lunch 6:30 dinner, if I don't stack all these bones now and these feathers right after that I
I'll pretend I'm sleeping and let them talk to my listening, listening
Tongues and forks and noseplugs and problems are ears and I'm lamenting over those two edges coming together in the blood blister I got out of it all
If I could be any animal which would it be? The human soul because there's almost no half-life

It's negligible and covered in pus with marriage on top, from globs to shoulder width and back to the hospital it don't stop
It's negligible and covered in pus with marriage on top, from globs to shoulder width and back to the hospital it don't stop
Until the socially acceptable thing to do is be real...