To all you who show concern
When will I cast off my ills
Not even the experts can tell
And light streams through
I hear strange voices in my head
you just pronounced me dead
in the car parts and the fields
But time stands still here,
it's a bigger, more serious deal
You eat these ruffled grapes
and you drink my fresh fruit juice
and I can't turn you loose,
like some comatose priest
My sick bed is your confessional,
I'm Father Nick, deceased
hail yourself ten thousand times
And I'm sure you'll get to heaven
In fact it's turned right around
And I might even be a child again
Or when they cut me down from this intricate
system of counterbalances and weights
And I'll assume my rightful position
An d I'll use my vocabulary
to restate my rebel claim
In words that sound so different
Could always mean the same
It's just spinning thoughts,
4.8
