The wind is all around my burning body
And I got the summer throbbing in my veins
So if I lie on the grass or tell the truth
My soul will reach the page and leave its stain
The sun is dancing on my aching head
The moon is waiting to take a slice of me
I'm at the mercy of a Cornish dream
And I haven't said a thing about the wasps
My gangs of words will never be enough
To conquer all the magic in my life
It's a tragedy for a poet that's for sure
And uh
It doesn't matter
And I can't pretend to care about the meaning
I'm really GONE(!) inside like you won't believe
But someone
Somewhere cold will have a theory
And all the literal minds will be relieved.
