I'm Not a New Me, I'm Not A Newbe

I'm Not a New Me, I'm Not A Newbie

So with my third eye in tact, I'd attract the fractals and attack the stacked bills burning a hole in my sheets.
I found it hard to sleep underneath the speaking tongues when we sung of how we long to be where we first begun.
I no I never expressed my distress at how at best I'm just a lonesome charity for those who care to be giving. My hair was always living.
This year I'm living all of my nightmares and moving to the streets where the night stares at me with little to no light pollution.
My institution of one hundred dollar bills, my slaughter kills, my water spills, My daffodils swaying in the breeze of me.
I found it hard to breath so easily until my ability to see the things accurately held the apple tree close, into closer perspective.
I never objected to the wanting of a never-the-same corrected past I schlep and laughed as i lept into the flame and crashed into the infected dissected.

I'm not a new me, I'm still a newbie, I not a movie, I'm still a new breed of humming the tunes to eclipsed moons, in the garden of June, floating on a string of balloons, like a cartoon being attacked by erasers.

I guess i should have told you, I hold you every night in my dreams, i guess i would use gold to compare the brightness of things,
but never again did we say the rent would be paid ed in the fall of day, i think we'd rather get laid then think about the way things could have been.
I'm Trapped In. I'm Backed In the corner, I'm Stacked thin like a mourner of life's survival techniques. I think I'm liable to peek when i hear bible speak.
I've died last week and lived to see the carvings in stone. she cried for me but she was all alone. So granted i am to be appointed this plan, to be a forgiving man, for she gave me my span of understanding.
demanding the cycles to bicycle through, the tires are white walled and the sky isn't blue anymore,
she slams the floor into place, she shuts the door in my face, i float off into space.
i hold my heart to her traced chalk line. hopscotch single malt shoppe time.

I'm not a new me, I'm still a newbie, I not a movie, I'm still a new breed of humming the tunes to eclipsed moons, in the garden of June, floating on a string of balloons, like a cartoon being attacked by erasers.

I had a dream and it started with a song. almost gone, i am standing in the middle of a hazel thicket, under a low cloud of stars just glimmering there above my head. Fire flies glittering under the leaves of the trees. in the distance the men of the ferns danced to a light that lit up the groove like a moon. and then nothing at all. there was silence in the glade. i hear a females voice, high and clear, whisper into my ear to listen. i closed my eyes and studied the silence. "there you go, you've got your finger on it." i opened my eyes and see a man running in the distance, excited and scared as if he was being chased. after looking around me and seeing no one, i chase after him, calling for him to stop. He continues to run, dodging the trees and the bushes, who seemed to be after him as well. Reaching out and scraping his face and he ran by. He is trying to swat them off with his hands, still being careful to watch where he is going, still unable to hear me asking for him. then as i followed him, faster he was running, i noticed the trees arranged themselves into a wall. he was then encircled by the trees, with leaves falling in flurries around him, cutting and stinging as they touched his skin. the commotion was broken by a giant wail. " we're here" i hear in my ear. "we're safe". a tree stump grows from behind me, and i am forced to sit. then from the distance a woman dressing in an elegant red robe appears on a chariot lead by goats.