Tethers

Plan, plan, plan

To be or not to be etc.

What’s it matter if it’s built on sand

Sand, sand, sand

So when the tides hit

It’s like I never even dreamt in the first place

Dream, dream, dream

Because I see symbols in everything

As I walk

To the bum, bum, bum beat

So I’ll dry swallow this pill

To cure my dreamers disease

Succumbing to my fear that

I may never prove these tides wrong

Wrong, wrong, wrong

Wrong like the misinterpreted metaphors of my sickness

That hangs like stars on a set

A constant in my line of view

Plans, plans, plans

In their simplest form

Ink on a page

From the caverns of my psyche

If I could only lick the ink off this page

To be so close to my desire I could taste it

Like the sweat that drips from my forehead

And drops to my tongue

That tastes like the failures of my mother’s before me

No, no, no

Let my chest stop

Let my breath stop

Before I wave this white flag and subside

To the predispositions of my fathers

Plan, plan, plan

Until this ink walks me on the coasts of Barcelona

Through the hills of Ireland

No, no, no

I won’t be home until then