Blew flew away into colorful rainbow trips
Green has seen the past but what does it mean
Read has said that it never mattered to him that much
Three old friends drink from the same dry cup

Photographs begin to laugh at the world that spins around and falls back down
Typing the words that began to learn the meaning of the past
It all began to come back to him I said
What could be done about what was around the bend

The drummer beats the tune that ruined the mood of him
Where did the time come from? the empty gun?
Notes that float to dreams begin the path down which no one has gone
Meanings come back but thoughts are overcome by the growing fall of love

Jam and jelly start at yelling but crash in the fiction of their condition
Surrounded and confounded they yell to the five against one, the evil gun
The orange peeled the world back and found the floating truth of itself
Miracles are amazing but taken too seriously in moments of weakness

Walking upright the man finds his kind in the comfort of the night
When one fell east the other fell west but never did they find the rest
Breaking the silence my mind is reminded of the dawning of the day
The sun breaks down the walls that red said would never falls on me

Radio discs telephone the earth of all the ugly truth it has accused
The man of murder but not the mother the one hurt by the brother
Who took the time but lost the rhyme in jelly and jam in the bloody hands
Hearts explode in crimson tides and takes the life of her the wife

Alienated and conversely hated by the nation for years on end
Taken back by the friend he slays the beast of mother's breast but finds the rest
Who flew away years back in the past they saw the colors go by
Seven is a perfect number to discover the meaning of this all but lies

Sometimes the rhyme takes time to find a home
Pearl white the ocean flows to yonder lands of no one knows
The words to speak in times so dear I fear the gun and the war so hard worked for
The killer angels fall to the ground the product of the growing screaming sound

Five days of freedom left to treasure the simplistic traits of things I hate
To leave behind the thought of sleep and back to the accusations of life by Wife
The fur explodes in temperate loads the rhyme falls back to something like
Dr. S and the people of far off lands with bandaged hands and trippy flowers with all the power