In the later stages of the day
I see a bright red scaffold that runs away
Like a stream of water falling down
And a king with tears that has no crown.
To the tune of bells my mind decays
And decadent art is finally praised
Like the groundhog with a shadow may
Feel the sunny day with a hand raised.
Tiny bottles lined up to be shot
In the carnival while the sun makes things hot
Seem stiff and impossible to break
With a rubber bullet that flowers take.
I draw sequences of pink violets,
So nobody asks whether I'm violent.
Ah, don't let little things cause stress
And let your brain become a mess.
