phrase appears!
when i crawl up off the carpet/cripsy craters from forgotten fags
and
go out to the kitchen again/soul plays loud out there.
i
re-up
on fuel/cold fusion
for
Team Gin and their quest for virtual stars.
phrase is; i do strange things to be normal/i think it
smashing hard ice into freezing frost.fill
a
glass
till
there
is
no
more room at all
and fuel for Team Gin takes seconds
to reach the bottom/tonic fights for space with razored lime slices.
cold fusion!
sometimes a glass just cracks . . .
Team Gin go scream at the shopping channels/talk a thousand miles
of
heated indignation
about apocalypse Costner
about sanctimonious MacCartney
about Spielberg who wont grow up
about that guy/you know/THAT guy/did THAT thing . . .
when
Team Gin
should
be
winning
virtual stars with smart weapon choices/should lay the claymores further apart on the forgotten fag carpet/should CREATE
real
sense
outof
the delirium/should record the hot steam
and
sell
it on to vendors.
Team Gin is night/when it is day
the phrase! is still there/a truth with teeth just right
for
these
wounds.
do strange things to be normal
like
doing something you dont understand
for
someone you love . . .
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