silked screen

whispers on blank tape captured in ether

tapped out in remorse code the beat of the disconsolate

drumming up a storm little tempestuous stick work

the play of the rain on the roof of my tent

the floorboards creek out a song of the riverman

my sudden white spring revelation echoing on out over the lake

lizards groove towards my outstretched fingers that stroke the fenderneck

old pastmaster old boomer ringing rang on and on

i singing that song song song song song song song

thats the one you fell over love and cracked your mackerel

now i know how to say i no sing anymore four square floorshow

some little backstage hitch bitched a widescreen ride

some little phrase she plays on her recorder unleaching disorder

some frantic mantle on her kindle wood the forest standstill

inside the hut the buttons of an accordion in discordant grunt

the tempting sound of a refrain refraining to reprise

i understand such things as these