Make up your mind not to make up your mind
The ghost of the past is the spirit most kind
Don’t spare the wine as the grapes do help to soothe it
Ask of me anything but, please, to prove it

You’re so just like everyone
There’s no one else like you
Your beauty defies lyric line
A soldier bleeds hot into a 
Field left fallow
 On the horizon the sun sets on time

The water’s still risin
The rain just keeps fallin
 It’s noted, the high ground’s in pine
Wise weatherman hidin
We tremble inside em
We’ve fractured the earth and the sky

Some valleys are warm
While it’s cool on the mountain
Glide straight and then turn on a dime
The pilgrim’s been warned
That there’s piss in the fountain
So bundle up warm, friend, and climb

Inside is a locket
Gone cold it in my pocket
The photograph burned in my mind
Way up past the treeline
I think it a good sign
That you were not left there to find 

I didn’t start Christmas and
I don’t try to stop it
No patterns emerge I can find
A myth or a veil or a 
Brute act of congress
It matters not whether you try

I do love my bed but the
Charm’s off my pillow
I’m ready to blur all the lines
Science is art is the
Personal publicly
Seperate or is it combined

In song after song it is you that’s the topics
That’s you in the tundra
That’s you in the tropics
With sinners and cynics and skeptics and prophets
don’t dare draw the curtain each proof is uncertain
assuming we know it’s a most dangerous flirting
Nature herself not benign
Focus your efforts 
Triumvirate cohorts
And proofs that will not reconcile
no solution in reason 
or rythm or rhyme
it’s a chill wind sets ringing the chimes
at see eye aye smack at those black bagging devils
at maddening madison stoking our troubles
arrest warrants filed against hookers and their fellows
I’ve heard it said anger’s just
belly up depression
 that’s not strictly true
would you hear my confession
would you taste my confection
I’m held up with cocktail napkins and glue
That I held up at all after all I been through
those psuedo philosophers poisonous tracts
all attempting to prove the persistence of facts
it is more than enough to keep each of us back
from that one in a million that nobody lacks
but for that all the world is a poorly scripted act 
knocked out by an underpaid underling hack
who describes the whole universe as a series of blacks
and then takes no pause at the obvious cracks
in his untested logic left tied up in sacks
thus we each suffer his crime
Or so I’ve thought for some time
But I’ve made up my mind not to
Make up my mind
Not make up my
Make up my
Mind