Flatworms

Sat down in my place
Said I hated space
Let the old models rust

No trouble in mind and no feeling in my head for pairing words

Slip into a skull to get out of the light of daylight dimming
In the afternoon strimming
All around the sound of cutting grass
Oh, let me get there last

Black gold digger, semi-pro slinger
What do you want to know?
That it's lucky to die as to be born
I'd have never said it so
In streets run white with salt
Go gold with black ice
Come white as snow
There's no haven in farms or medicine
So, sing so sweet the next time we meet
Like you know that one of us has it better

(Wasted, spaced, unwilling to race like a broken clock)

Put my ashes in my shadows for now
Watch the vines climb up the stairs
Talk a lot of sass, burn a lot of gas, count on another chance
To come back from the dead as an eel instead of sponges and flatworms
And push into the noisy scene
When the clear moment comes finally
It's easy as it's ever been