time is wrong, a bandit, a thief. Let’s get rid of him, by acting out the lives of our ancestors, that’ll throw him WAY off base, time will see itself ruined, collapsed, runs away and goes and hides in a well, seeking porcupines, danger, eruption, but we don’t want ANY of that’ the porcupines come raging, and burning off their purposes, alone in the middle of the night, with nothin to handle but the approach to yesterday’s dream.
it isn’t the seeds of understanding, or the new toys that come after it, it’s the new love that’s being shown through the new understanding, radiation and warmth, a smile from the bottom of a well, that’s what we see and that’s what we believe in, on a friday night in a monastery, at the center of the inner sanctum.
and don’t forget to lock the door on strange forevers the moment you walk outta here!
the prince takes a turn, goes west, stopping to find the camera phone, smiling where the whistles are going, large beyond large, instant before first;
comin in for a landin on the license plate of forever,
the ocean says it has a license for a pool…
gets the sin in the cider to the center of the soul
but nobody makes his own license plate;
the beat goes on and natural madness prowls the seas, lifetime undertime tuning.
minnows in their bones and apples in their homes,
they set the monsters free - (the zoo demands the key)
and the license plates all go blank and grey by morning.