Poetic License

Light heart, heavy head
Light heart, heavy head
Why, I can write anything I want
It’s dead because it was never born
In order to die you must be useless
Did you know Cortez invented corn
And chased the moon’s shadow
For every queen in Spain?
He’s sipping his warm now
All ex-ice cube scotch and soda, I assure
In fact, seventy percent
Of all Episcopalian blue-collar jewelers
Don’t believe in such a thing
As collective church and state
I can writes Mother Teresa
In binary code and numbers on a calculator
I don’t think the poor boy’s even blinked
Look, he’s swallowing
I can write anything I, I can write anything I
Keep your distance, I think our tour guide is on the H2O
You don’t seem to understand the lasting impression
A grade school gym teacher’s hutzpah
Has on a modern nation’s economy
And I could write anything, and I could write anything
The average healthy rooster lives around twelve years, this is amusing
Did you know some of the trees in India had navels?
In Iceland, even parents run by the pool side
And parents, and parents, and kids are very, very different
Light heart, heavy head
Light heart, heavy head