Get me a beach.
Get me a fire.
Nice goodbyes to empty souls and liars.

Give me a pen.
Give me your heart.
Bloodshot eyes hear money made art.

Is this really for me?
I am just performing.
Undercover, talk to folks all night long
while my head’s way over there.
Like other places over there.
What I do.
What was your name again?

This thing picked me.
Am I what I’m supposed to be?
Unknowingly already knowing things.
Gets boring, what’s next? Write a new book?
A look back at all the soups life cooked up?
Parking lot calls, too many times.
Don’t worry about me.

Get me a tent.
Get me some water.
Sometimes I’m good, and sometimes I call her.

Get me some wheels.
Get me some wake.
You speak so loud, will you pump the brakes?

This thing picked me.
There is no supposed to be.
Amazingly just knowing things.
Impact lives unknowingly,
because nothing ever really gets through.

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