Joy-Sick

Walkin' through the workin' land Surrounded by acres of sand Not worried about no roundabout Just thinkin' how the world is round I walk past a group of pastel youth Playin' with their plastic sleuth They laugh softly at my clothes And I smile in repose Because my clothes are warm and they smell like me I'm embarrassed by their honesty How can something so cold still emanate heat Is there something I can't see Now every night the city hums Electric lights and grounded slums Murmuring and whispering It knows when you are listening I see an airplane in the sky Up a million ladders high And I wonder out loud Do you dream of me Do you dream of me on the ground A billion colored kites Cast up into the air A billion starry nights With no more room to spare Sunlight hung in the room Like the dust in the womb Approximated suicide Floating out like a landslide A billion specks of dust A billion times to rust Over and over again This cycle has no end An almanac of spaces Leaving wispy traces This world is an endless circus With little flashes of purpose This world is a candlestick This world is a cynical politic This world is a broken joystick This world is just joy-sick I see an airplane in the sky Silver spaceship in my eye I try to scream up to their speakers But the range is too high way up in the ether But I still wonder out loud Do you dream of me Do you dream of me on the ground A billion colored kites Cast up into the air A billion starry nights With no more room to spare What do you think What is your just What more is there for you now Because this world is leaving us