Strategic misaligned omissions
 
Now ls the culmination of everything That's happened up till now
So, how's your Now, Now Brown Cow
oh Thanks for asking
l'm too busy ln not now right now

Broken vessel that's fallen on the Riven Brick
you're going to have to shake lt
there's still some work to do
lf you really want to turn this trick

May l please have permission to reconstruct
a Broken Brain with Strategic misaligned omissions?
ls there someone who can sign the proper papers of Approval?
Can l find a Bureaucrat who knows just where lt's at?

Playing not to lose ls not the same as playing for the Win--
liberating crazy wild ones, incarcerated way down deep
delving ln the dungeons deep below the basement of your soul
ls always righteous ln lt's nature-
otherwise, don't bother me with all your funky Jive

MORE ABOUT LARRY
One two three golden pots of meur and Frankincense, and golden seal ln the back-Sld and Mary-ann and Larry who plays that fretless bass wlth such abandon and here's the thing, Mary-ann can sing like god, damn that girl can sing-

Larry loves Mary-Ann and Mary- Ann loves Sid and Sid loves that Stratocaster-The three of them Chasing down an eastern Star ln a stolen car the Magistrate says they won't get far, Says they're never going to make lt to Jerusalem-

Rats are knawing on the golden crown, leaving tiny dents ln the luster
Someone lost their way, but that's okay, everybody finds their way 
on the path that meanders through the crack between the worlds-

THE MAESTRO

captured in the eddy of the river bright, the still life painted with the colors of the soul, the dead-eyed and the damaged wander through the landscape of the misty light without compassion for our plight.

even in the darkest night there’s drops of paint, notes from my guitar, and tiny light that usher in such lush delights, though worthless in the merchants eye, the maestro has the wings to fly…

it’s a big mess, got a hole in my chest, taken down and crushed like apples in a press, i confess to everything i’ve ever done. every single one of us… on the run.

when minds are quiet, the stink of revolution floats in the air, and the overlords they waste away in deep despair… slippin in the deep end not so quietly. fantastic sights!!
tin can rattle in the back, living in a tiny shack, standing in the middle of a two lane blacktop gazing at a cloud i saw some thirty years ago.

RlGHT OUT THE GATE

Anthology Act lV

STONERJAZZ