empty frame of fame

all these options are driving me crazy

like some dumb stratocaster towering above me

its hearsay  the crowd used to love me alive

i was pulling it all in

i was tapped deep into the arcane shrubbery my legs all rubbery

my hands were slippered in gloves of satinate sequinned eyes of philip

in virtual miles i am taller than your house nestled into its hill

i visited the king in his exile-ish thing

hes down by the sand in a shack he built with his bear hand

the yoga and the sea did their magic on me

in fragile caves jesus saves my soul

in vast universes of blue light

the maintainer still holds back the oncoming night

in the wing or song of some bird i have heard

in a handshake in a dark place surrounded by shadows

in rushing trains and planes that shoot down lines

in the little girls heart a warm place for her dear father

alone in my room that i sit in as slumber beckons

i need nothing i have nothing i will become

in the blackness of dreams i will fly jungles and cities

old black cat inside a hollow dome

my old home away from alone