Heat Of The Sun

with a mean grin,
and a swollen mouth
full of sin (playing parts,
straight to hell, of poor
blind men), I did a deed,
so good, according to him,
and better for the worse,
I suppose it couldn't hurt.

And that girl, she's a love gun;
put her in your mouth,
you can feel
the heat of the sun.
But wicked winter
this way comes,
and an army of trees
to set me on the run
with torches over my shoulder,
I suppose only I'll get colder.

Jeez, have you heard,
the jazz in that word,
someday; hitting all the right notes
in all the wrong order,
but hey, who the hell said
we should have no quarter,
for those on this strenuous path,
I suppose it'll pass.

Still the greatest line
I've ever heard,
or had the pleasure to find
was that of a dream,
and it being so great,
so perfect that you're dying,
it just struck such a melodic chord,
and I suppose it's my melancholic world...

That I find yellow,
yellow,
and gold and black,
and silver lining
in a heart attack,
That I find purple,
purple,
and sun and shine
and the golden cusps
of fading time...

...playing parts of poor blind men...

...she's a (wicked!) love gun...

...and a mouth full of sin...

...you can feel the heat of the sun...