dreamsequence

Lemon ice and Vincent Price, mildewed emotion.
It�s mostly about moisture though.
Something else that lingers there, malingers here.
Tasting lip-balm.
Painting, finger-painting, with palm oil paint.

Arizona desert dream,
wretched apologies instead of screams.
Eating dinner in the place where screamers go,
because they all have to go, somewhere.

Sea-green sparkles originate at frangible fingertips.
Heart-shaped feelings are hidden under bed-springs,
and uncommon things, are common here.

And you better believe that honey, because
in a very inconsiderate sort-of way,
I�ve been considering
that I�d like to nail you to a wall.
And I�m wishing I could do it,
because I got a hammer
and I got some courage
and I got a can of diet cola,
but I don�t have any nails.

But maybe that�s just as well
because you�re not worthy of a crucifixion, anyway.

And if you really want to know a secret,
you can�t just throw yourself out of the window lover,
because all the screens are stuck.

So catch the 9 Lakeshore to beat your buzz home
and lie on your bed and think about Rome.
Think about all of the marble and all of the lovers
and re-paint the Mona Lisa under your covers.

Then touch yourself softly and think about me.

Turn the beat up louder to drown out the light
let the pied piper lead you, just for tonight.
Be who you want to be here in your chair,
let the sculptress impress you, because that�s why she�s there.

Smother, mother,
It�s gotta be one or the other,
because you can�t have it your way, right away,
all the time.