Search results for: phantom-power

I left your house this morning about a quarter after nine Coulda been the Willie Nelson, coulda been the wine When I left your house this morning It was a little after nine It was in Bobcaygeon I saw the constellations Reveal themselves one star at a time Drove back to town this morning with

Your imagination’s having puppies It could be a video for new recruits Just stare into the camera And pretend that you got the flu Or dream of impossible vacations And get all teary from the wind Look as though you’re standing at the station Long after the train came in And see how the space

By design by neglect For a fact or just for effect When they met where they connect At the confluence of travel and sex More a trip than a quest Plunged into the deeply freckled breast Where to now? If I had to guess I’m afraid to say Antarctica’s next or Chagrin Falls, Ohio Where

I like the tone of your trumpet C’mon let’s spill some paint Let’s raise a glass of milk to the end of another day And to the kiss that’s still intangible The kids are alright just unmanageable They won’t do a damn thing you say Your voice is all detached on a radio-wave breeze We

Spring starts when a heartbeat’s pounding When the birds can be heard above the reckoning carts doing some final accounting Lava flowing in Superfarmer’s direction He’s been getting reprieve from the heat in the frozen-food section Don’t tell me what the poets are doing Don’t tell me that they’re talking tough Don’t tell me that