bumps
He bumps me and says, “It is what he is,
It's tough t' never be wrong
And if that isn’t clear then perhaps you'll hear
It in the clarity of my song”.
It's clear as a bell that his tune is hell
Though he swears it's the pearly gates.
Thank God for delusion and for its intrusion
Or for something bad that I ate.
His naked vision is a prison
Wrapped 'round like a shroud.
His eyes of Tarots and voice of parrots
Know how to tune a crowd.
He bumps me again, says; “Friend,
We’re bound together for keeps
And like it or not, I can't stop.
I'm free but I'm not cheap."
I turn to go as he says, “No,
I don’t think you understand.
The sun don't pick sides
And there's no place to hide.
There are no one night stands.”
I turn on my heel in time to feel
The bump of his body on mine.
Now wherever I go in my heart I know
He's the fiction that I call time.