i am chalk on the hands, a kind of windblown pigment
tousled by water and rolled in the rust.
there's too many clouds in my blue sky but
you won't ever hear me complain.
i'm that grin, the one that bears it,
a scent hound, a falcon, a ferret, what-have-you.
i'm the eyes of the operation and i'm looking up.
there's a million other places to be but we're here and
if that means nothing to you,
it's your loss.
cause i'm the atom, the catalyst starter.
i don't follow but i don't meander
and i don't stay put oh no i'm a mover.
i'm in the nooks. i burrow. get in there.
i differ. i do. i go. i go do,
cause not so long ago somebody took off the filter
and said wishing isn't doing it's wasting.
our eyes meet and i tell you i don't want you to leave
and on my life i know it's the truth
but do me a favor honey, and kill me if i ever say
i want to leave with you.
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