were we woken from this dream,
who would find us in bed...a wife,
someone else, or would you be by yourself?

escape from this dream
before your father hears you,
escape my lovely one, please escape.

way down in January our icicle thoughts
resided in our annual tax brackets and
way down in February we drank until
our tears came out inside the curtained
veil of simple luxury.

Find another dream that listens to your worries,
find another place that fathoms all your hurries,
discover what we placed inside the books of yearning
it was a lock, it was a key, but now its you and me.

say an angel were to cry, what would it mean for
lurkers swimming around the holy grail, around
the replete mania of frenzied thought effervescing
like a railroad engines steam whistle, what would
it mean for you, because I have a gentle feeling
that it would cover up me in tracks of sand like
a beach reaching out its crescent hand, that the
way we've been raised is what our enemies are
trying to erase now,

in the veils, of certain faces, there lies disgrace...

see me talk like a rock, hear me whistle like a thistle,
listen: