There are animals in our kitchen, eating our whims
But you told me not to use metaphors to describe what i have been
For here this is a time where colors do collide
And words refuse to reside
In the places in between our breathing and the home of a livable life
A livable life
There are wet fires at the borders of what we tend to name
Is this an image honest enough for us to begin the light year work to be made?
There is a well of fairness found a kind of singing out lind
When i tell you that today was the day all the gingko leaves fell down
Down, down down
There are animals in our kitchen, eating our whims
But you told me not to use metaphors to describe where I have been
There is a man dressed in crimson red shouting alone in an orange sea grove
It is always almost true that i would have wrote to you if i could only understand
How to not refuse how to not refuse the home
The home the home the home
Of a livable life