My brains

Are blowing on the breeze

Over the trees

Where the hair in my lungs

Begins to freeze

And these trees

Don't want me here

But I have no fear

I'm buried up to my beard

In a shallow mirror

And I'm a reflection of myself

But I see no resemblance

Between the sun in my face

And the man in my mind

Is going blind;

The man in my mind

Is going blind

So I adjust my cape

And make my escape

Through the alleys of my mind;

I can't find the sunshine

But the moon

Is a perfect fit

I thrust a spoon

Into the infinite

And when the gravestone in your chest

Begins to glow

Lay low

The wind

Is a police car

Prowling around

Like a scowling wolf

Begging for change

But I'm not deranged

I've rearranged

The deck chairs in my jaw

Shipwrecked

And raw

You show me your claws

And drag me down

To hell

But it's just as well

We're not going very far

The Eastern Star

Ate my car

And when your cup of morning brimstone

Turns to snow

Lay low

©2014 Nathan Payne