© Electric Babylon Music Author: M.M.
Upon the dissolution; playground wonder; classroom lust, as he grinds
his guiding star into stardust, there was a teacher whose lips were
what they taught, he unearthed a vision from this trifling sight; so
divinely wrought, flights of fancy; on the wings of a beat he sung
treasures, honeysuckle intoxication; enigmatic pleasures. The summers
heat just seems to melt the spring, nearly nothing almost; anything.
Days of gravity; trying to focus his awkward walk, listen and try to hear
a meaning behind all this spoon fed talk, one smile was good for ten
dreams of her lips, the stutter in his soul played upon his tongue;
raptures record skips, she could stand right next to you and still
manage to be out of reach, he failed to learn the lessons that he forced
her to teach.
He wants so badly to get lost in a place where everyone can find him, a
new orbit with only a blonde framed sun to remind him.
The frst time his finger touched the string, nearly nothing; almost
anything. And so the fantasy gets mixed in with the solid earth, he
starts to weigh the cost of a dream against what it’s worth,
ambivalence plays the part of a nurse who is dying, alarm clock
screams usher days of undoing; just trying, he plays the part of a
victim with a lawyers finesse, and every mornings rising weather brings
a new interpretation of success.
And so he trips over the bride searching for his honeymoon, it
wouldn’t have ended way to late had it not started way to soon.
The symphony of a first kiss turns in to a hollow ring, nearly nothing
almost; anything. The frst few seconds of realization drifting from a
dream, nearly nothing; almost anything.