cantoning cantoni...
cantoning cantoninghow a high one grewup across the inner side ofthe hyper-cubed mindwhole systems of ideas streamnot much unlike a fountaining lensspewing from inside, up and down, focusing into an interested eye

nevar forget that...
nevar forget that when you are highyou are the agent of like mindspoetry propagandaamoung my own thoughtsgiving the wayfor who knows whatam i as clandestine as i ought to beor can it bethat i can seeright through to metwelve balloonsnine greythree purplelaying in my music roomthe meaning it brings to me seems odd inconsistently

Sunneling a groun...
Sunneling a ground shrewcadling for no explicit reasonsout with the windout from my earsI hear you when I don't want toand settle the scoreit's starting to get cold hereat this time of yearI could be happierBut I suddenly don't want to

i think of a thin...
i think of a thingthen stop to cleanthen i think of a thingand forget what i'm doingoh yeahi'm thinkingand doingwhenever i please

sing to the stars...
sing to the stars and the voices they breathe ontothis growing spherefrom the night skyI receive the coldarms of eternal comfortthat which enduresfinds new hope, andbraveryLucifer is meshunned by wewho avoid controversy