song for the corn

There are those
And those there are
Who say I take my way
Me to myself too far
And so too true too
As I skip rope rote
I might a might too playful
As in a play a pen I might
Shaking out all old shadows
All in all in all in night
So as the beat drop drips
Honey’d words from high
I see my stars as satilites
Lending leading light to sky
One compelled one once complained
Of cranky crunky crickets caged
Trick trapping flap flying tongues
Loosened leather stories of old shoes
Wagging left right left right left right

The miller grinds his work day out
The thresher so too sways
We’ve lost our rhythm for simple things
With firm fermentation of our days

Roll it up and roll it down
Sycophant afoot a fuss
Back to back and back again
The use of useless tasks
Will it ever never end
Clock theory takes us
To the top of the riff
We relieve our moment
As addict repeats and repeats
Those precious pieces of yesterday
Which caught the tomorrow we dreamed
If we put them end to end to end
I wouldn’t be a bit surpirsed
Hoping for a next right time
Use your mentality
Wake up to reality
I’ve tried so something or other
And then again I do
Look back it goes away awhile
All of this is all very well
But we are on to something new