eastern evangeline coasting to the the coastline
eye on the big time
still waiting to decide
what she’ll do and
who means what to whom
silent in the face of coming doom
we’ve now heard seven
still no word from eleven
the politics of heaven aren’t
even
the only resource not used up
steals the breath out of coffee cups
finds doping and hoping just ain’t enough it's never enough
for eyes made of empathy
hearts held back by litany of
hands all revelry but then again they have to be
it’s their job
see
how can you get anything
from one knee down questioning
the briefest apology is part of me
it’s starting see
she’s a little bit thin
but then everything is
and when you can just quit there’s a need a conflict
see
the eastern seaboard was flooded with cutting remarks
booze broken hearts
you could sing it to start just don’t call it art mark
not in this town
eyes so black they’re brown
even the weightless will have to come down here take a frown
they don’t cost anything
are as contagious as yawning
they keep some of it real but the rest still
wanting
a little more time better explanation
a plan that can beat back manifestation
did destiny or greed invent the plantation
was it man was it me she can’t stand the waiting
all the driving the east the north's infatuation
with the basic building blocks of frustration
a bundle of nerves dressed like a jealous jerk
early to rise but late to learn
he pretended to be the only one hurt
isolationism won’t ever
work
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