Winsome

Come morning on morning
 I labour the yawning
 Waking from slumber
 To visions of I
 Relabour his form
 And venturing on
 Hit high over chord
 And keep boring the time
 The jars are all shaded
 Colour graded
 From denim, black faded
 To hungover jade
 I'll keep listening
 In search of a christening
 Jesus don't love me
 But we're all here to glisten
 I'm my mother's baby
 I'm half way crazy
 Eternally gifted
 And tirelessly lazy
 I'm matter in motion
 My own most devoted
 Proudly owning my denial
 I undertook the time
 Make a man of mine
 See you all inside
 And disappear the lines
 I'm bleeding from scripture
 Death to the hipster
 Years in the balance
 And no way to fix you
 I'm longer than most
 Still scared of ghosts
 Have bread with my butter
 And savour the ghosts
 My mother incarnate
 Not enough like my father
 Winsome
 Losersome
 These tracks unguarded
 I'm dead in every rorschach
 Streaming from the floor crack
 Fathering like Cruikshank
 Stealing from the blood bank
 Reppin' double corduroy
 Thinking too much into Freud
 Probably suppressing having thoughts about undressing
 Never arrive
 Never late
 Never one to wait
 You're never gonna make it Dewey
 You're never gonna make a man out of me
 Set fire to my dreams
 I've had enough of dreams
 Set fire to me
 I'm longer than most
 Still scared of ghosts
 Have bread with my butter
 And savour the ghosts
 I'm my mother incarnate
 Not enough like my father
 Winsome
 Losersome
 These tracks unguarded
 What hangs in the balance?
 What hangs in the balance?
 What hangs in the balance?
 Hangs in the balance?
 What hangs in the balance?