repeat
and
repeat
Papa,
George
it’s simple:
drinks with Seneca
and
looking for answers
and
watching the sun rise
after a night without sleep
I pick up the shit
and
repeat
tomorrow
and
yester of day
and
one day it changes
and
then I am God
and
God, I am dead
thus
the story begins

Organic eggs
and
buttered jam muffins
I wish for not nothing
but every thing
so
I Google a piece
of feeling a love
and
a box filled with air
arrives the same day

And
inside of this place
I look for face
but
the tabs on the tap
so
let’s run it right back
and
repeat
and
repeat
and