call me a murder mystery,
but don't ever call me surgery.
call me Ray Ray,
but don't don't depend on me!
I want something
while inches will find me at six foot
nothing.
flourists will find us
blooming, one way or another.
pistols will picture us
pulling triggers.
I tend to burn my hands
on hot dreams.
my face is a corpse,
looking out for life.
it's time for time travel tongues,
ain't that right Everett?
lighthouses with orange spiral staircases,
he we come...just to climb and shine.
grand eve's droppin' embolisms,
circa two thousand and fucking thirteen.
you may know mother natrue,
but we all know father time.