yamships, flaxseed

For more than twenty-five years, I've remained awake Quarter past the eight, I stand chest-high in any lake An avid collector of remains, that's burial Exceptionally paid and curious The nerve it take, the urge to make a game that's furious Poems that constellate, I'm concentrated ('trated) Stacked in high piles at a desktop computer ('puter) And our conversation was frequently punctuated By excerpts of music You ask if there's a method to my madness And I reply, "do you want me to lose it?" I could take it to the graveyard by dissecting it, toothless Toothless Toothless Toothless Da, na, na, na, na As we walk down the corridors of my mind I want to ask you to be gentle because I want to ask Gentle inquiries Special sentencing, extra questioning Played the vegetables Summer squash, bummer thoughts, guess I'll start exercising I mean accessorizing Next to the next in line, perpetually Pep talks with Pimp C in dreams Lent lint, loose leaf cream Yamships, hemp and a handful of seeds Spamming control-V No goalie, no roadies Yes, pain comes in dreams, ooh Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh Yes, pain comes in dreams Yes, pain comes in dreams Yes, pain comes in dreams Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh This right here, we call a magic moment My only defense against fate is color