Black Rebel Motorcycle Club ASK iAN * Life is a Crash Course

Ask iAN

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ASK iAN * Life is a Crash Course

    Swim Upstream to pin prick the speckled egg and somersault until i shape shift skate past the hips into the florescent bright cold hands, tongs, towels it was murder swimming through her bowels and i was wet soft and scratching blind like a heaven's gong but still chanting a fucker on each side of me i will beat to death before they can race me somebody get the papers please and take my bodice home Mittens and sharp blades of grass i can't walk no muscles in my ass i bicycle on the bed until my legs can balance out my head... walkin' to the front door but i can't reach the lock snow then spring bells and shiny things cowboys and indians old tyme television daddy gone to work in the dark verve morning and then only Returned on Sundays... Learning Metal cars metal Sears bikes football helmets and vacuum cleaners in a globe vacuum Fragile as a bird's nest sinewy as the corpse of Abel my pine maple sweetness will be tested forever more... one door leads to the job another door leads to the floor A motorcycle cosmonaut riding elevators sideways taking trains to places you postcard from flying in planes to places people only wanted...and wished to... escape from High Rise Hotels or on a boat on the Baltic Sea or on the bars of a bike skating on ice and crashing into misery bashing in and out of relationships like college courses and horse shit You step on or get stepped on and then you roam... a funeral here a funeral there as there are dead pets buried everywhere... jam your hands in your pockets and pound the pavement clean gripped and tossed out of bars sometimes a bastard clings you just beat it off like so many things escape this bad side show before the sun comes up crawl in through the window then leave by the back door a beer in the car and bad radio park in the shade until the buzz sweats off The chemical plants churn and moan at night the grain the trains the strain and bloodshot eye sight we say good bye we say hello and kicked up the ass we head back through the door walking, i fucking don't know where there's bridges to be burned further out fo' sho grip and lift kiss and smile you must walk another fucking mile to get where we're goin' but who the fuck knows that? Somebody pregnant here somebody suicide here somebody went to jail far off pickin' off friends checkin' off friends some kinda Sunday obituary Sun dance bowl as the papers mock the radio they got it from the dead on the TV show throw it all away in the shape of a misfit world Pack your bags don't forget your coat two coins for the eyes to pay the skeleton boat furnace or a graveyard not bloody well yet The bells ring every time you open the liquor store doors an angel gets it's wings and you drown out the woe read too many books on how to find your path the one less traveled son, this fire can't last The sun brings all the boys out The moon shuts the game down The moon brings the girls out The sun says somebody is dead... or somebody got born We keep crashing till the parts won't work surgery and pharmacy clerks and the world spins around in loud sounds so sing your song and leave broke. Every finger print has it's own blue print on how to Live this Life. There is no america...there is only your heart, this globe you trot and to be kind or not to be...on the Road...on these here Vanishing Roads... .*
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