Ease off the fun pedal, Charlie
The dawn and its Christ will rise again
So pour me a bloodshot
To chase your grandmother’s eggs benedict
Neither breakfast nor this road
Will go on forever so
Let’s not get there on an empty belly.
Shake some beads on that worry machine of yours
And fix the Say Hey Kid to your spokes.
Let the wind curse what’s left of the lion’s mane.
New, old, middle aged, mox nix,
I pulled the thorn from his paw just the same.
The violins are crumbling like cheap suits
Or salt water taffeta communion dresses.
Innies or outies are just two aspects of the void.
In space, no one can hear you dream.