The Party's Still On
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The green, the white, the gold, the hot light
Rays from the sun
Does anyone believe the pure shit that falls naked from my tongue?
A fountain of lies, a cachement of flies
Buzzing along
A doctor might cure this condition of echoing song
The reason I believe in flight is an angel in the storm
Knocked on the roof of my mouth and said
"Shelter me in warmth"
And on and along I've always maintained
That there are blessings in the rain
For the seraphim shall appear and supplicate
Before the vastness of our pain
The party's still on
Until the break of dawn