Grey lady, her spaceman darling, and their blue flower child, falling over the darkened days of November, dancing circles around the cruel sphere, taking the second exit to Tijuana for it’s the psychedelic hours around the Hollywood Hills. They’ve got decorated foreheads, skin colors that were coming off, a poised recline, smoky fame smoking off the orifices, lying about dying over the only wish of being a fashion, living on Venus hotel on Jupiter Boulevard, orbiting the roads, inspiring hurricanes in supermarkets, feeling birth, frazzling the air.
But when telephones discuss the obscene click of their tongues on the day of naked rain, it’s all under a bridge of setting. Disease, friends, frizzed hair, sadness, interludes of drunkenness over meditation, sweat, moans, spit – all in the sleep of their spirit.
Happiness knows when to electrify and when to keep up all night, for when they’re coasting away to the ports, they sing with umpteen of colors and they’ve got their love honey springing in Illinois, footloose howls of laughter- they know when to flow away in a trip.
But no, the thoughts are everywhere, the flying harm above is thundering like the stares, money caught the fire, flowers aren’t in bloom anymore, the glory of their free story lost in the poems of bummers in the land of baying critique.
Holy past, a grave, cemeteries of July heat, sunglasses to save from the flare of time. Death baby. Cruising present the sinister adults that got their guiltlessness bluntly scattered. Searing the dream of world-weary wars, and sizzling with the lance of having the world to go to war with, against the brooding bunches and heavy-metal squads. They’re the specimen of their own head, the captains of an old hole, vigilantes that create dangerously and write notes on acidic liberation while humming the national anthem.
Goodbye into the beginning, hold onto the festival of sunrises. Goodbye, this is the end, beautiful medley philosophy. Hilltop jumps, unconventional silence, violent carnivals riding to the crash but that’s alright, causative fun is no surprise.