I’m not convinced of the existence of these things that don’t exist Yeah by Jewish boys with big ideas and scratches on their wrist By a loving or a vengeful God Or one who condescends Who’ll wash his hands down in the mire among the misery of men Or by ever turning circles hanging timeless in the sky Like a dream catcher distracting from the fact you’re gonna die But I place one foot before the other Confident because I know that everything we are right now is everything that was That Watt Tyler, Woody Guthrie, Dostoevsky, and Davy Jones Are all dissolved into the ether and have crept into my bones And all the cells in all the lines upon the backs of both my hands Were once carved into the details of two feet upon the sand.
Posted on: Mon, 14 Jul 2014 03:50:25 +0000
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