Ordinary Fear
Is he a stupidhead?
The eye in the peacock feather,
Such life changing art
People will lean
On the backs of chairs,
To watch him work
And the stripes in his hat
Promise nothing
Except what they really want in their dreams
And the swish swish swish
Of his big black pen
Is placed like a baby in his arms
When the wheels wheel away
They are left in their heads
Turn around, drink up some wine
And the clock will tell you
As you’re eating your food
That this part of us cannot go to sleep
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