Fuel

Oh my little thief,
you’ve been slipping through the wrong sieve.
On my little yacht,
all we thought about was shore leave.
Single exhaust truck
doomed to vanish in it’s own mist.
Oh I liked the plan,
but you had to pick the wrong men.
You needed four or five
and one to park & drive
a parking lot bender.
One in one out of mind
and one to kill your time.
I shot all your darlings.
My imperfect crime.
One to confront me
with burdens beyond me.
One to keep me high and dry
with rain falling out of a clear blue sky.
One to control me.
One not to call me.
One to be what I am not
a chainsaw cutting a forget me not
For my memory.
Non stop shifted all entries,
with a time based tendency
to pick out snobs and call them hippies.
I said we needed fuel
and one way roads are cruel.
But somehow we’d get there.
I’ll trade my wine for fuel
and dance around the stool.
Mechanical bullshit.
Not a one life hit.
One to confront me
with burdens beyond me.
One to keep me high and dry
with rain falling out of a clear blue sky.
One to control me.
One not to call me.
One to be what I am not
a chainsaw cutting a forget me not.
One to confront me
with burdens beyond me.
One to keep me high and dry
with rain falling out of a clear blue sky.
One to control me.
One not to call me.
One to be what I am not
a chainsaw cutting a forget me not.