untitled.

sometimes the rules of life make us tear our hair out
we're not merely properties, and a proper tease
can drop us to our knees and squeeze all the air out

but it's an illusion if you've made your own home on that web
mirages in deserts don't pay the for the feed or buy bread
and even though that younger explorer isn't dead

you don't want me for the thrills and chills in bed
when the bills stay unpaid and there's too much in my head
that I've seen, and it's only estranged me

you don't want a brilliant old fucker whose bones are
dry as dust and whose heart only works in fits and starts
so that you have to plug me in and recharge me

you don't want someone who contents himself with hobbies
you need someone strong enough to be a source of income
and keep people like me on as friends, and not pretend

that someday that ship is going to sail in, white as snow
in full sail, newly arrived from the port where angels go
when they've said no to god and gone their own way

you'll find it's a black corsair and its sails are black
as the glistening feathers on a raven's back, it sings
doom-laded dirges at all the lingering, listening, living;

and you need more than that
with kids and more kids, you need
a salesman's hat, and a bid at stability

and if that takes humility and kills pride
well I don't think if would be bad
you're eighty percent there already-

just need to forget the twenty percent that dreams
its wild, wild dreams...
put away such things, come have a drink at sunset

get the kids to bed,
rest until the room is sun-lit.