cover bands cover up lives with ears flipping over,
with elephant ears boiling in a tin pot
that poisening has to end somewhere on my way to the ocean,
on my way to the gold mine
shifting moods go by like summer old fashion,
some are old fashioned
a hasty heart attack, that wish to leave no goddamn goodbyes behind,
we go past doors closed from the inside,
past men wearing beautiful straw hats, there must be something
to all that
