The phone rang, and i was afraid to pick it up,
because to pick up means to talk, and talk is no easy task
In this forteress, what's out there comes through the line
so amplified yet distorted, as real as television gets
Shattered windows suck out the air where children once played
The illogical fear carburating through my veins restrained
and the heart blasting for help are symptoms of a far greater
war against nature...and nature is a victorious mother
peddling apples and oranges for our betterment
each night i dig deeper into the soil where my phone will rot
along with all the money i scrounged around in the mid-west
clouds turn me around from the feeling of electrical currents
ice cold water flowing down my throat that once read poetry aloud
run away , we'll meet where the road forks into wheat or mountain sights
a rhapsody, a rhapsody is what we hoof into the ground and sound
crazy as the desert wind dulling forms into nothing, as in enough
wine for the road, I heard of you and I wanted more steady rain
in person, no phone...with music feeding each word from your mouth

sorry about my "speling" M