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Comin' Down for Yeour Birthday

First love comes is mickey mouse
Harriet the spy was I,
Everybody else spoke bone-white plain
everybody now is just the same.
My jokes won't take laughs
and my eyes won't see no mustache.
My eyes never seen no TV commercial,
my eyes have only seen the color schemes
and my eyes have only seen my dreams.
nobody knows the rainbow
But Dylan, both the poets and I.
The light reflects seven ways
the sound is coming from twelve different stages
large meetings of people won't make them better
the kettle phones and knives won't move them
and the honey soaked steaks won't stew them
one hundred beer keg bombers won't hold them
and stone-sharp rocks won't crop them
There are bullies in the wilderness
there are statues in the park
there are corpses in my living room
there's a shotgun in the mall.
Nobody will duck and run, nobody can say they've won
but Dylan, the poets and I.
Oh, the rescue trucks won't take them
and the grizzly trucks won't chase them down
and the bow and arrows won't tear them up
and the concubines won't bust em up
and everybody hears it but nobody has a werd to say
but Dylan, both the poets and I.
It is a long dusty road for takin'
with no hotel to go tell for 43 miles
and song birds and poetry all in the gutter
there is no one to love for the next million miles
there is no one to love you for who you ain't written to be lickin'
there is no one to tell that your eyes started ringin
there is no one to tell of your debt to the flowers,
there is no sameness to say to your same soul forever.
Life is a thing to end for everybody
but Dylan, both the poets and I.

8 Mar 08

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kinda good.
 — raskolniikov

i shower this with all the love i have
 — onklcrispy

Two very talented poets.
 — cowork

I like it. But I think it could flow better. Smooth it out.
 — thirdeyris

mammoth come eat bad singers
poop out nice poem
 — chuckle_s