Rose Hips

The streets are like the ocean

That the water fills their brims

And your head is just the same thing

If it fills a hat with tears

With the reasons we get

And the gifts we accept

And the promise we request

The promise isn't half of something to wrestle with

Golden gardens and pussing lips

Rose hips and bull whips.

And their ain't no one to talk to

And you can't talk at all

As you sleeping as a baby

As you see you lurking somebody

On the cliff or on the edge

Or on the way into the hedge

It's a murky time to rest

And times crooked to attest

A supple cup of blood

Or an undone vein of mud.

Well I'll be one to take your promise

To the beach or by the way

Of the dreams that pass before us

Or the murders journey towards

Some ideal that's innovation

For sleeping on a stone

Or being in your death bed

Or seeing that your blood rests

On the bottom of the canyon in the morning.