antisen

all my modest comments turn to sawdust in my mind. and these theories clung to thoughtstreams run like tap through my fingers. please remind me again what i'm leaving behind. see, all my modest comments turn to sawdust in my mind. i am alone, dirty, and foamy marooned in the city somewhere will you take a dip in the Sound with me? will you ride the citybus home with me? bitter thoughts get caught (on air) and floated (to the atmosphere) get burned up by the sun and stars and snoring songs that teased my ears please don't let me leave you here, i'm foamy and i'm sad. see, every time i try at this the Sound'stide pulls me back i