Friday, June 22, 2007

Fever Dream

Mr. Hitler, no friend of mine, made his greatest sense when he said, “never write anything down,” and I’d add especially anything true but how can I not when they’re writing songs of love but not for me, even though my lucky star’s intact at least for now and love still leads the way to sky’s of grey and remember what I heard, you’ve got to meet me half-way baby if this house is where you wanna stay, get up! don’t fight it ‘cause you’ve got to feel it, well somebody’s feeling it now and somebody’s been feeling it for a long time too but this is the hour, time for a shower, and if I don’t miss my guess there’s a thin line between love and hate, what do they throw instead of boiling grits on your planet, and who wrote that book of love anyway, not that it matters because we know already it couldn’t have been a man because it’s more than two pages long and men are simple creatures who think directionally while the distaff side lie in wait for the unsuspecting amongst us and men just try to keep on the straight line between their two favorite points, country roads take me home to the place I belong, not Virginia, pretty momma but please take me home, take me to the river, take me in your arms, all eight of them, red hourglass figure, take me in your arms and love me, love me a little while, oh! darling because I’m too fast to live and old enough to die and I’m a little scared so be gentle, this is my first time on this train and there are more things in heaven and on earth than are dreamed of in my philosophy.

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