Electrons On My Right

how i love the times we have already forgotten in the slip stream of another argument as to how it really was oh how i miss my clarity and now you tell about how you also miss your clarity and as we try to mesh these different stories together we turn into lava waiting to cool into soil that produces palm trees macawes and beaches but thousands of miles away from one another standing like shells washed in from archaic oceans we listen within the conch to hear our far reaching tell tales with hard ears and tongues of barnacles