yamships, flaxseed

For more than twenty-five years, I've remained awake
Quarter past the eight, I stand chest-high in any lake
An avid collector of remains, that's burial
Exceptionally paid and curious
The nerve it take, the urge to make a game that's furious
Poems that constellate, I'm concentrated ('Trated)
Stacked in high piles at a desktop computer ('Puter)
And our conversation was frequently punctuated by excerpts of music
You ask if there's a method to my madness and I reply
"Do you want me to lose it?"
I could take it to the graveyard by dissecting it, toothless
Toothless
Toothless
Toothless
Da-na-na, na-na
Oh, we walk down the corridors of my mind
Want, want to ask you to be gentle because—
Want to ask—
Gentle inquiries
Special sentencing, extra questioning
Played the vegetables
Summer squash, bummer thoughts, guess I'll start exercising
I mean accessorizing
Next to the next in line, perpetually
Pep talks with Pimp C in dreams
Lent lint, loose leaf cream
Yamships, hemp and a handful of seeds
Spamming control-V
No goalie, no roadies
Yes, pain comes in dreams, ooh
Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh
Ooh
Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh
Yes, pain comes in dreams
Yes, pain comes in dreams
Yes, pain comes in dreams
Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh
This right here, we call a magic moment
My only defense against fate is color