Simple tones.
Single notes and brilliant words,
A shaky ghost seeps out the sleepy heads.
I start losing grip on the session,
Passing in and out of
Soggy bread and chimney smoke.
Ask me the question again.
The scientists note it in black or blue pen
And tuck it all in deeply contrasted skin.
The names become a hole that doesn't bury,
Skeletons gasp for warmer dirt and find it.
They wind it in a plastic sheet
And play it on a quiet street for
The forever fading nightlights,
The high life in a higher sea.
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