Brain Rust

There isn't time to rust the brain or moss to let gather on mulled over pain There's songs to write and lips to kiss and apple leaves pushing their blossoms whist There's skies to pierce with thoughts of thirst and rain to quench them when you're at your worst. There's a million stones to sift and bury and strawberries sliced up, sugared, very... Bees full of bumble, black and yellow Flocks full of flowers, white and purple Friends full of laughter, beautiful smiles and roads full of road trips for miles and miles. So oil up the cranium sockets Take your sullen hands out of your pockets Call on your wishes to fly vivid and wild To the moon of illusion in a sky full of style...