And there's never so much seething
That it can't be disarmed
You just -
Stop it up
Pass it on
Shove to shelf it
To leave it off and
Turnover
Lounging against your weapons
Until your muscles find lock
In the ease of that position
A residue of tremour passes
As some cherie amour suggests
That maybe it was time to smash things up but just -
Stop it up
Pass it on
Shove to shelf it
To lead it on and
Turnover
I'm only sleeping