Patrick Fleskes
Static Thoughts
Condensed is this cigar box heat,
That Seeps dreamy death sleet,
On Measured notes, to hot water beat,
make this polygraph admit defeat.
Oh so whose to say, whats to say,
As you may, disarray, this ship’s gonna sink anyway
Ticker hearts rusty strings need,
Replacement now, and so they’ll ring, a finite sting,
Shiver now its stormy complication brings,
Inner demons to the mind’s pulled back sling,
A shot of unleaded, raw gasoline,
Whose sordid thoughts bathe blood in whiskey.
Back in, traveling, washed down, this sin, damping,
Weight of yin, has drowned yang, or so they sang.
Clang, clang clang.
Sounds out from the cold iron of this chain gang
Oh so whose to say, whats to say,
As you may, disarray, the ship’s gonna sink anyway
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