the curtains were made for moving
'cause you know, sometimes you're not always there.
you don't need it now; your head's shaped like a cow.
till all is here, the world's just a sphere,
no bigger than the balls she sucks.
hey you, with your hat down,
don't you know that can't be where it's always at?
you've all been always there; your head's shaped like a pear.
you search through the light, instead of jumped in the pie
of life that you slice till it's just dry.
you're so often seen along
the westside wheel of the meals that you steal
to get around the curtain of this loss.
it's always made you feel the best.
you always made less and less of the casual forces
that lead you away from the nest.
i know your face, it's all out of place.