galahad in goosedown (fiat iustitia et pereat mundus)

(album: budding ornithologists are weary of tired analogies - 2018)

Thank you, sir
You're welcome, sir

Dry humping the Ecstasy in Seattle, baffled, channeling Sappho
Gold lasso loops, holding an actual noose
Goose down plumage (goose down), I chose to remain a student
Of the disaffected malcontent, Halifax hyacinths and
Soup of the alphabet, a higher sense emerged
After I abandoned lucid mouthiness, Church of Black Rowdiness
Roy Rogers hanky-chief, lost it in the jungle gym
Bungled whims, mangled whims, fuck rap, eyes go back
To finagling, finnesing, I haggle for the message
Bits of soul, perhaps another round of cribbage though
Wicker poetry, it's wicked to ever proclaim "Woe is me"
Hoping they don't notice me, I might proceed unaffected
I forget the date the statue was erected but I dust it daily
Logs be musket waving, calling it an art form and I nod like, "True"
We should rob all conscious rhymers, pass the Aunt Jemima (thank you)

If life were a dream of euphoria
We would not have schizophrenia or paranoia
If life were a dream of euphoria
We would not have schizophrenia or paranoia

They yelling, "Bro, you inspire me"
Like I ain't the nigga who said "Oh well" to life's entirety (oh well)
The prince of solipsistic fortresses, immovable objects
And irresistible forces, we galloped in on horses
They yelling, "Bro, you inspire me"
Like I ain't the nigga who said "Oh well" to life's entirety (oh well)

If life were a dream of euphoria
We would not have schizophrenia or paranoia
If life were a dream of euphoria
We would not have schizophrenia or paranoia

If life were a dream of paranoia
We would not have euphoria or schizophrenia
If life were a dream of schizophrenia
We would not have...