All my rivals will see what I have in store
My gun
I've been harboring fleets in this reservoir
Red sun
And this nation's about to explode
Your disciples are riddled with metaphors
Well-hung
Better pony up and bring both your barrelfulls
Not one
As we release this unspeakable toll
How's our mother to damn these contributors
With mud?
How will the man who made chemicals difficult
Shed blood?
How's our father supposed to be told?
11: Sleight of Hand
Routine was the theme
He?d wake up, wash and pour himself into uniform
Something he hadn't imagined being
As the merging traffic passed
He found himself staring down
At his own hands
Not remembering the change
Not recalling the plan
Was it??
He was okay
But wondering
About wandering
Was it age?
By consequence?
Or was he moved sleight of hand?
Mondays were made to fall
Lost on a road he knew by heart
It was like a book he read in his sleep, endlessly
Sometimes he hid in his radio
Watching others pull into their homes
While he was drifting
On a line
Of his own
Off the line
Off the side
By the by
As dirt turned to sand
As if moved by sleight of hand
When he reached the shore of his clip-on world
He resurfaced to the norm
Organized his few things, his coat and keys
Any new realizations would have to wait
Till he had more time
More time
A time to dream
To himself
He waves
Writer(s): Stone C. Gossard
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