From deep within a Starbucks maw
I pickle twice and try to draw
The picture of who I could be
If I first refuse to see
All the things that shorten time
Must concede the guilty shrine
More than rhythm bakes my hands
Supplying the dreg demands
Not a mountain hill from here
Calling fountains, touching fear
Spore and more and more than this
Shying off the cut down hiss
Goals are moles in beaver dress
Raccoon ball with bowtie tress
Featuring the bridge too far
Driving in a totaled car
That will become the end
Feather purple on the mend
Come back here and then forget
All the ears that could get wet
Roman Ryan 