Gilbeau

A job awaits
 As a (?) along the water tides
 The mountains spread themselves into our lives
 As our stringed-out minds become part with the universe
 A feeling mixed with something more than our lives can expand upon
 The sand rose upon our bodies
 Like a fox that we must deliver
 Into our own hands
 Others have sand in their minds control us (?)
 Over and over
 Until we feel no more
 Than the man-made rip
 From the sewer of the earth(?)
 Exposing itself
 Showing itself to us
 As a mirror shows the image
 What do we feel?
 What do we mean?
 The wind whirls itself
 Tornado-like, into my own vision
 Blues and reds become grays
 The black woman escapes her ghetto trap
 Seeking some kind of vengeance
 Against her own entrapment
 Said "Hey
 Are you gonna run now?"
 The beach, is itself
 The woman becomes part of it
 Catch me, one time
 Again, maybe
 The creator is in my own mind
 And I become part of "It"
 I stare away, whirling and whirling
 Throughout a universe
 Made by stars burning out
 I can feel its heat, bathing
 A heat created by my own hands
 Do you ever feel your own hands?
 Sand creates my images
 Once again, a mirror world
 So tornado-like
 Part of my mind becomes part of your mind
 And I escape, again
 Killing might not be so bad
 (?) rock
 And I become the rock
 Run over me for two thousand years
 And I become the sun
 Touch me
 I want somebody to touch me
 I want somebody to touch me