by Jerry Ratch
Maybe tomorrow someone dreams
And maybe someone moans
But beware the steam inside the dome
It's just dreams that sorrow owns
If it resonates, say so
Ho in a raccoon coat
Slow bum ahead
If it resonates, say so, say so
And her man, yo
He sure can play piano
With those giant lobster hands
If it resonates, say so
When words were first born
You know, they were like
Pure prayer, but now
They're just dreams that sorrow owns
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*
When words were first born
You know, they were like
Pure prayer, but now
They're just dreams that sorrow owns
*
"When words were first born
You know, they were like
Pure prayer, but now
They're just dreams that sorrow owns"
Really nice, Jerry. I hear that as the poem's refrain.
Enjoyed.