Courts

You know you'd say, "Just one minute more!" If I gave one. Then what would time turn me into inside of your dreams? A lying fool? A peasant? Or a king? A show of strength Your show of strength. You know you'd say, "Just one minute more!" If I gave one. Then what would time turn me into inside of your dreams? A lying fool? A peasant? Or a king? A show of strength No one to thank. Your show of strength Your page is blank. You'd know a way you could soak me through To heavy to leave. But now you'll sleep thinking of all your brightest things. A dire fool, A resting eye, A scene. These dire fools, These resting eyes, A scene. A show of strength No one to thank. Your show of strength Your page is blank. What was l back then? Your faded face? Your welcomed ache? Look at me that way again. Stay awhile until we wake. (It's strange to think that at some point, Your brain might interpret me as just some Beach ball bouncing down a sun heated asphalt driveway, Or maybe a villain who's on his next conquest into the Dimmed-black outer reaches of your mind's kingdom, To explore and steal secrets and regrets. But I have to ignore anecdotes like that Or they might just squeeze my ribs into a Blackhole formed from the gravity on my chest, And implode in on the very purpose of this exercise In independence and subjectivity.)