Find me if you can
I wont be singing at the gates
Found a path
That led me down a mountain road.
Came upon two pillars
I took to calling affectionately
Mister One and Mister Two.
Hello, how are you,
It’s good to find you here
I have come from far
And I’ve got a bit to go
Share a tea, I’ve got enough for three.
And a bird came
Whistling to me
That took me off
To find a beautiful melody
Since that was all
I had ever hoped
Would find me here.
The season of your mind
Has taken me along the way
To run home
To sing with you
Each picture that I take to paint
Reads me another happy day
Wishes and your other way
I’ll save a seat again
To remind me I’m awakening
A better version of me
So I can hold on for three
Then I’ll never see
What could take so long
Hold on, hold on I’ll be.
Counting out dollars of an unmarked womans purse
She told me I had nice hair, I said she was rather curt
That is when she told me about her dear old fathers luck
That had run its course as a scholar written from a pen of steel
I was young, she was pretty, we had fun and then we both remained
Dear friends just all the same.
When the water boiled I poured the tea for three
She hadn’t come alone but we seemed to be private
I wrinkled up my nose to an unexpected story
That had me rather wondering when I would ever read his book
So we took just a minute to choose what herbs would do
And we sipped, then we stirred, and sighed until we finished
All the deeds left to do in a scholarly mans todo.
The moment I stood up
Lump between my hearts
Said that I could grab
Branch lost in our dark
Continued here again
One after two said three
Traces upon the wall
Lost in an animal
Speeding through the soul
One after two said three
Take my heart again
Don’t leave it for
Lump between my hearts
One after two said three
Human is at last on my mind
Nine fifteen nine fifty three
Easy my modal
On stride in a day’s lemonade
If it goes to three
Then land on my hill
Let ours be and then be
Motion set inside of me
Advantage atmosphere
Advantage tip of my tongue
Burning without gasoline
Summer night is my number three
I spent the night camping
In my darkest of corners.
I spent two hours searching
Inside the womb of my unspent.
I spent one hour withered in darkness.
I spent four hours unable to move,
and one hour mashed
Between a forever truth
And two silver dollars
Who told me I should know how.
I spent one hour hand writing a letter
To a foreign friend I’ve never met.
And I spent three hours digging
Into this wisdom I’ve always known.
I am beginning to observe this once again,
One two three one two three one two three.
And your elegance makes my romance
Waltz as a leaf in autumn’s light breeze.
Let this hand be lead for thee,
One two three one two three one two three.
And my pen write again because
Circles rolling down these widening streets.
“Late,” said the bus to a leaning signpost,
One two three one two three one two three.
And if recollections could be the bumblebee
Sun would soak yellow into sands of our memory.
Wizards are taking turns cracking whips at higher shelves,
A lost umbrella serves as a dusty stepping stone.
When did he ever know his heartache?
A landslide, at the base looking up standing tall.
Can the old boys help anybody now,
Since there’s a guardian knocking all them down?
There’s a wild side whenever anybody’s holding on,
Take a look now, tomorrow’s rhythm of any song.
Inner ambition’s little sister came to say hi amongst terrible rubble.
She cried big elephant tears until socks upon giants grew ears.
Dusty sorts, way up there, but important bits reside beyond the whip,
Enough so, that a lazy angel has taken it to be her resting place.
Leather bound and locked without a lock.
Page four houndred and seventy three.
If someone were to remind me of why I walked every day
I’d remind them that there is always room for three
Because, of course, as you know, my dog and I make two
Imagine the shallows of tepid water
Wading through with no regard
And tiny snowblowers buzzing in the background
Reminding you of childhood horrors
In the year of the Rat
With Chinese food at the local diner
Chopsticks and good year fortunes
Like hockey cards and good luck pitchers
Walking two by three down sloppy roads
Three crammed in the back of an ol’ pickup truck
The bumpy way from ice cream to the lookout
With sand banks and long lobs
Exploding in magical madness
Imagine all the broken bike tires
Lost pucks and dead tennis balls
Bounced bald flat basketballs
And the advent of the GameBoy
All within view of this
Tepid water swaying about your
Soaking feet wading through
Mysteries of histories