FIND YOUR OWN COFFEE
Then, don't bother me. Tartuffe
and lightning storms, all together.
Everything sounds like it wants to
be a flavor. I just don't know. The
potted plant on the diagonal seems
withering or crowded in its own
abrupt way. The lampshade with
forest painted on it - not that very
convincing. I'd rather meet the deuces
at the edge of the watering hole. John
Wayne, Roger McBride, any of those
old, dumb figments - a long, dry culture
gone dead and to seed. Buttonwood,
willow, hemlock, oak and elm. Everything
alike in one big definition. Nature calls, far
from home. It has lost its way as well. Now
seeking guidance, it finds it has lost the
means to speak as well. Oh dear,
this God is really dead.
and lightning storms, all together.
Everything sounds like it wants to
be a flavor. I just don't know. The
potted plant on the diagonal seems
withering or crowded in its own
abrupt way. The lampshade with
forest painted on it - not that very
convincing. I'd rather meet the deuces
at the edge of the watering hole. John
Wayne, Roger McBride, any of those
old, dumb figments - a long, dry culture
gone dead and to seed. Buttonwood,
willow, hemlock, oak and elm. Everything
alike in one big definition. Nature calls, far
from home. It has lost its way as well. Now
seeking guidance, it finds it has lost the
means to speak as well. Oh dear,
this God is really dead.
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