titles

gtx

the brain rains
the wether is steep
living counting sheep

sleepwalkers
chiseling out a masterplan
is it real meat that stuff in a can?

i don't know
just scattering leaves
i have no rake
and theres a strong breeze

i thought a thought
it can't be bought
it's mine it's yours
earths tears pour

i've done my chores
and picked up sticks
earth and apples have cores
apples can be put on a stick

this makes me laugh
as it makes no sense
but hamanity has grown coarse
and darkness dense

take away the buildings
take away the gold
what's left but hands
streched out to hold
and years together to grow old.