the way it really is for the oh-so-powerful

i tripped my way to bed and was down for a while. i know that's how it should be. drank too much i drink too much i always do it in times like these the best of the them worst of them best and worst of me. can't decide which river the last smile should be shone from. two roads and all and on and on and on and on and on and...

i dreamt of plastic sailor coasting by starlight plug in nightlite. that's the thing about it. a giant canvas over the sea poking holes in a sky that's never really dark. then they were in a mausoleum and all the old chairs were filled but no one would sit on the casket you figure it out i don't know the whole things played out to a soft harmonica and no one really knew what to make of it. they all heard it though. then they were dancing slow with plae virgins from a dying race out of southern california and telling their dreams to bartenders. soon it was raining and everything was washed away but their dreams.

i woke and someone wanted to look at the house so i smoked a pall mall and fell asleep on the porch sofa.

i didn't dream of anything though.

2002-09-12 | 12:24 p.m.
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