You’ve got a rambling in your words
A little red wagon on a dirt road ramble
Two small legs and a set on strut
A five fingered grip
Clammy,
But god help ‘em if he ain’t gone this time

It’s a deep seeded ramble
The kind that folks don’t mind picking up once in a while
If only for the company
A few kind words back and forth
And a see ya later, stranger

A coast to coast ramble
And you think
Maybe
Just maybe
If you could make it across that expanse of sea
You’d settle down and give your feet a rest

But you’ve got a rambling in your words
Which ain’t got nothing to do with your feet
And it sure as hell ain’t got nothing to do with your
‘Location location location’

You’ve got a rambling in your words
And that’s all got to do with your mind
And what a mind it is
A tap tappin away into the night
Sending out your words
Like SOS’s in whiskey bottles
And love letters in smoke rings
And — and — and

You’ve got a rambling in your words
A little red wagon on a dirt road ramble
Two small legs and a set on strut
A five fingered grip
Clammy,
But God help ‘em if he ain’t gone this time

God help him
If he ain’t gone this time.

Played 25,895 times

joycemmanor:

"Lie to me like you used to
Tell me everything is how it should be
Lie to me, did you have to?
Because in the end it never matters what I think
And I can barely tell the sky from the shoreline
And I can see myself reflected in your eyes”

Anonymous asked
hello & good evening from the land where the mountains arent tall enough to touch the sky :)

Haha. Clever. ;)

A gift laced in silk
To protect the ivory beneath
Beautiful to look at
Always wanting to look at
But never to touch
—-Not ever.

'Such delicate things — such pretty things — are not for boys like you' they say.

Not for boys with fingers that fumble along the porcelain curves
And leave sweaty swirls of DNA
Across the blue veins of artists twice your age with four times your intellect and talent.
Not for boys who’s hands tremble in pockets
And who’s teeth grind in tandem with the stern shaking of a finger.
‘Not for boys like you, understand’ they say.
Not now, not ever.

But oh how those trembling hands still
And those teeth do silence
When given something to do.

How, with practiced patience, they can slide away the silk
Grip the pallid surface
Caress the polished curves
And trace those blue suggestions
With well-known and ardent care.

'Not for boys like you' they say.

But boys like you, they never listen.