Legato+Chromatic+Climb,+Awkwardly,+For+Goddard+And+A+Half

Legato Chromatic Climb, Awkwardly, for Goddard and a Half (For Piano, Voice, and Cheap Bordeaux)

Jean-Luc The telephones are falling From sixtysixth floor windows For lonesome children In early morning. There is nothing you can do. I have exhausted what I could For the wrong state of mind, clad in black. There is something dead in those reels, Incessantly silver dreams, dripping like egg-yolks in your famous nothing. Every day an adventure For slave drivers in suits Singing the absurd songs of mankind, Mimicking blindly in the dark. The fire and brimstone In your hellish sound Chants freely And I think of all the days Marooned in long-necked wine bottles. You drop your pants, fall down, quote Whitman, quote yourself quoting Whitman And profess your love to whoever passes. And I ambush myself from behind, Kill my dendrite machines, holding no flags but shouting and kicking, And wonder to myself why I take the time To be who I am.