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Lasso Mastery

Hands gloomily sticky from the silk
Dried and shiny in the rain
Glands; I crawl upon the lasso hill
From nothing I refrain.
Aching and pacing the dews in the night
In the heat is where everything seems to be right
And, yet, all the old people still wearing the masks
For the time isn't certain, all you can do is ask
That is why the web is safety in this day
The lasso grips will keep me here
And molding other clays
While the moon and sun collide
against horizons night and  day

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