Archivi della categoria:10-07-2024

di Bunnell

AMERICA

Sometimes late
When things are real
And people share the gift of gab
Between themselves

Some are quick
To take the bait
And catch the perfect prize
That waits among the shelves

But Oz never did give nothing to the Tin Man
That he didn’t, didn’t already have
And cause never was the reason for the evening
Or the tropic of Sir Galahad

So please believe in me
When I say I’m spinning ‘round, ‘round, ‘round, ‘round
Smoke glass stain’d bright colors
Image going down, down, down, down
Soapsud green like bubbles…