i don't wish for things anymore---
each year staring at the candles
suddenly faced with absolute power
i cast a coin into the ocean and sat on the beach
but all i got were the tides

it's time for a new name
this old one has grown tired
and i am ready for a new journey
i don't need this skin anymore
because underneath i am fresh
at first tender but with time

sure creation is necessary
but without organization it's just soup
(don't get me wrong,
  sometime's there's nothing better than a good soup)

losing power was gaining power
(loosing patterns and digging hands back into the mud of the world)
  when the screens turn off, will you build a fire?
will you make soup from the bones of rodents?
i still haven't sorted out what this feeling is.

we're a generation of men raised by women
is another woman really what we need?

i don't wait on the beach anymore---
i pull the waves up with my arms
becoming the edges as they flirt with the moon
and i crash white turning shells into sand

i just hope my mind stays flexible
that's why i hang out near lightning rods
and chew silly putty

i just hope when i die i get to see you guys again some time
even if it's just bumping into you on the street
a glance and an odd sense of something forgotten
as we continue in our streams (i became a fish
and a hundred years passed in a blur)
(i fell through time like the 7 between 4:47 and 4:57)

it glimmers on the bottom

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