Til It Dont When you start too many things cause you seek that girlish wonder yet the starting starts to ring with the churlishness of thunder Thats about when rakish bones stake a rattle and a hum at the nights surprised expense at the overstaying sun. As the wonder telegraphs how the ending has to feel, cant the re-run in the bar-light pull a rabbit from the reel? Thats your history sitting down. Broken records want a chance. Feet of clay, defeat us now or by thunder skip the dance. As the seat was always taken by the quicker and the dead and the liquor got forsaken for the spirits in the head. Thats when living rifles thinkin for a pillow and a rope. And her preface steels the barlight with the abject veil of hope. Seems the livin wont give up --weary bones, the thickest skin. To the marrow, time corrupts. Til it dont. And packs it in. --N Ball
Posted on: Fri, 14 Mar 2014 06:17:39 +0000
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