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This 6 liter hard candy girl
tickles my eyes and curls my toes.
Makes me dance to music I can’t feel.
Sends me where I’ve never been before,
on a tour
of Big Time, Small Town, Milky Way Heaven,
wearing clumsy sneakers that reek of old cliches
and humming sad tunes from all my yesterdays.
Don’t sit and weight for your bowels to move
lost in the groove caused by your life’s last fall.
Get up and do it again.
Well, perhaps it’s different now, I can’t tell:
We’ve all been to Heaven of one kind or another.
We’ve all seen our own brand of Hell
and I can tell
that walking down the road together might be good.
I might understand you better,
might be understood.
what kind of picture does love really paint
with brushes of passion and canvas that aint
Well, just put on your traveling hat
come along for the ride.
I ain’t got nuthin to hide.
Maybe you got your own kinda dreams to share
about some hunk of six digit brand of Macho Care.
Prize pupils starin’ back at you
with guns still smokin’
and pot shots making swiss cheese outa your ROMANCE.
Maybe you learned how to dance
the hard way
banana peels taped to the sides of your skates
and fish eyes staring out of
all of your restaurant plates.
And maybe your hair has lost its sheen
or lost you completely
and gone where its never been
Well what else is new?
We all gotta tune
of one kind or another
and we all learned to dance from
a sister or brother
and whether we walk with a bounce
or a cane
we all been caught sometime out in the rain
and it aint nuthin new
it’s only me.
and it’s only you.
Copyright © vernon witmer | Year Posted 2020
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