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Rose Hips
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Thanksgiving
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1
The streets are like the ocean
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That the water fills their brims
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And your head is just the same thing
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If it fills a hat with tears
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With the reasons we get
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And the gifts we accept
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And the promise we request
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The promise isn't half of something to wrestle with
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Golden gardens and pussing lips
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Rose hips and bull whips.
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And their ain't no one to talk to
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And you can't talk at all
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As you sleeping as a baby
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As you see you lurking somebody
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On the cliff or on the edge
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Or on the way into the hedge
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It's a murky time to rest
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And times crooked to attest
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A supple cup of blood
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Or an undone vein of mud.
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Well I'll be one to take your promise
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To the beach or by the way
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Of the dreams that pass before us
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Or the murders journey towards
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Some ideal that's innovation
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For sleeping on a stone
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Or being in your death bed
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Or seeing that your blood rests
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On the bottom of the canyon in the morning.
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