Chasing the gold
From the hands of the clowns
From the tops of the trees
To the streets of the local town
Why chase the lies
Let’s chase the truth
The truth
Hanging on low trees
The trees we can all reach from our knees
Let’s all start there
A soapy sky
Filled with bubbles
Falling all over our heads
Dust embroiled with steam
Dirts downstream
Is there a way to filter the air
With giant cotton towels
Air filters deconstructed paper towels
Can we pull out the weeds and scrub the sky
Like giant wind turbines reducing the pollution
It is a weak gesture
But a possible solution
A soapy sky calls us back
And we force it to voicemail
If you have time take two
No time take one
Don’t care take none
It’s up to you in the end
I know you’re on the run
We live in the insurance land
Have something
Get it insured
Now sure
Get it insured
Have a life
Insure that too
Something is not quite right
Well, insure that too
Insurance land
Where all is uncertain
But all in not lost
With a receipt in your hand
Winter sand
Summer sands
The great plan is to seee the world
Revolving
Evolving
Not in politics
In the people
The good hearted people that fill our land
From helping hands
To simple glances
No one human
Defines
The great human dance
Hopeful hearts
Caring hearts
They are everywhere
Everywhere
Seize the spotlight
Adhere to the mission
Don’t give up or else
We all would be wishing
When all partisan rancor is clanging
The bald eagle will be left singing
To pull the curtains
And seize the spotlight
Worried but hopeful
I am not quite so
More one than the other
Settled on another
Some set sail on uncertain seas
Unbeknownst where the breeze lies
How can I be so forgetful
The sky can not land in a whirlwind
Of the ocean
So much commotion
So I wonder where the future lies
Trying to read between the lines
I guess I will just remain worried for now
Here comes the surge
The mass deportations
Unappropriated funds
Irresponsible ones
Lead the charge
Lines seen dominating the headlines
How can we not at least take a chance
To try and dissect or understand
What is happening now so routinely
Across this land
There are battles being fought daily
In every moment yet our eyes and hearts can turn
Bland
This one orange toned man
Has no sense of humility or true plan
No one can understand this blight
We now deal with it everywhere in sight
I just open the papers and pour out the news
This is our land
And our land to lose
Pivot for the brand new
What can be the difference
Between a guitar and a grape
One of consumption
One of art
These grapes of old times
Quaint yet stupid
These grapes fall on an early morning
Yet guitars play late into the night
One withers while the other sustains
While I long for the life of a guitar
I wonder of the sweetness of grapes
If these fingers could type
A million words a minute
Would my mod outpace the pace
Of my hands
Or my hands outpace the mind
In full times the mind grows
In fruitless times the mind wanders
So I am spending hours wondering
At what rate will my hands outpace my mind
A Cup of Songwriting 