Your eyes will be blue flames
The bark on the pines is worse than its bite
As stoned as a ghost in the snow
Now that is a line penned by a divinely guided hand
Wool on the trees, dust on the eves
But if you are

You wear them pale and fine
Of kings in a tongue only spoken by ghosts
A picture we love, hills have eyes
Straining the weight of a sorrowful sky
This old motel song you dig when you're stoned

To watch the clouds roll along
Cold and gray clouds staining the sounds
While the furious eye on the sun is upon us
Old Mr. Centipede climbing tobacco leaves

But sounds like a cheap shot
These lines are crawling snakes up your open legs
All of the lines have been lies this far

Looking for livers and hearts for to eat
Tailwind carry the birds to the coast
The hills of nomads, we envy their lives
The way your breasts dance while we're making love
This is the line I'll give you true as the dawn
When you're sober and cold
Pollen and pitch whisper the scripture

There is a feeling I must keep from you