Spit it out,

Or let it drip back down your spine,

Ages like wine,

Another line,

An erotic discontinuation of the time

So anyway I take a look at these hands

And I how they move up and down and all through the space,

So tell me,

Is it really what it’s worth?

Or is it buried underground being washed over by the earth?

Honesty, my honesty

Back to the wall,

Turning heads in the sprawl,

You were a jump,

I was a fall

Symbols of past corrode and surpass,

Give me a moment and make it my last

As a matter of fact, honest and abstract,

Step from the painting, get stuck in the act,

Is it really what it’s worth? Or is it just a sound of a sound shuttered down behind a word?

My honesty, my honesty,

Where do you go from here?

Dishonesty

And so the kids burrow themselves,

Down beneath the burned out remnants

Of the places they once called home.

On the cave walls they paint images of jazz, and forge alters to the heroes of past.

And they saw the best minds of their generation, only in memory, separated by a screen, machine to machine, task after task, an abundance of nothing, you ask the alter, he’ll tell you: “let it all go on.”

My honesty, my honesty,

Where do you go from here?

Dishonesty