Right on Tracksuits


Left for death
∉∞
Time out;
My mind has been melted so deep into this page that I have been ok learning on my own. I can’t stand this jail cell and even though I wake up too early every day,
and everybody else is having trouble sleeping too,
I thought talking about face would pay my respects to the admiral who watched over my sleep patterns.
Rhythmic tossing and turning over a new leaflet that is losing the way,
I guess this path is already taken so I guess I’ll sit down on the stage.
I’m not afraid but man my stress level is causing a rise in my awareness of surroundings. Don’t spiritualize both your spirit and soul too quick,
or it goes so deep into the warehouse which is so vast that it can’t be compiled into a list and it won’t be read for a very long time.
Once we lose our sensibilities of traditional time,
the digital framework is all that might be left according to the new (c)age or the creationists,
but guess what.
I work on the 13th archetype,
the galactic spin of our celestial process that will always begin the stopwatch again.
Press play on the counter and we’ll use the ancient glyphs as a bookmark to where we left off.
The glyph of my most ancient and trusted guide,
and the tribe that never left me behind,
and this crossbow has been held back in order to launch us forward to where we meant to aim….here and now.
I was waiting in the currents,
a service call I can’t hang up on,
cause there are so many good souls in the fabricated steel structures.
I’m on the naughty list,
I know,
and I’m glad we have so much American coal,
we roll it down these tracks from Santa Fe to the plains,
and that’s how the great divide connected us once again.

Advertisements