Swimming in a snifter
Pretty as a picture
Don't get it twisted man
Her bite is a b***h
You can name you can keep her
You never can take
The fight out a fish
Chompin' at the drill bit
Never one to still sit
You can test my metal
With a magnet and some tin snips
Ink test all I see is
Canines and some wing tips
Pilot pen in pocket
I'm riding instinct and inkjets
Around here we don't
Like talk of big dreams
To stand out is a pride a conceit
To aim high is to make waves
To split seams
But that's not what
It seems like to me cause
I wanna try I wanna risk
I don't wanna walk
Rather swing and miss
I'm not above apologies
But I don't ask permission
Got a lot of imperfections
But I don't count my ambition in 'em
Zeno's arrow never hits the mark
It's always hanging there over its shadow
Safe from battle
Waste of archer's time and trouble
Waste of effort waste of parts
If you don't aim for the center
It's a waste of the art
I didn't come looking for love
I didn't come to pick a fight
I didn't come to wave or take pictures
Pander to some benefactor
Ring on every broken finger
Won't extend my wings to be clipped
Know the culture here is to
Stay humble but shit
If we all go round
Bowed heads button-lipped
If none of us go
For the bell then who is
My mother says I've loved too many men
But I took and left
Something in every single bed
The rook can look left
Right just turns his head
But the knight might rise up
Investigate the grid
Gender genre- guess
I'm on one bent both
Just the constructs of
The old word gone broke
Women children let me tell you
I've been both and it's a myth-
We all swim for the life boats
I didn't come looking for love
I didn't come to pick a fight
I come here every night to work
And you can grab an axe man
Or you can step aside
Zeno's arrow never hits the mark
It's always hanging there over its shadow
Safe from battle
Waste of archer's time and trouble
Waste of effort waste of parts
If you don't aim for the center
It's a waste of the art
Self taught self made bet self styled
Self saw self came
Self took island of converts
Too conquer is old school
We march 'em in converse
Just armed with their own tools
While my knees still flex
While my joints hold steady
Mind sharp spine straight
Chucks laced ready
I travel by kite
Travel light at touch down
I swallow the dice
I make my own luck now
Zeno's arrow never hits the mark
It's always hanging there over
Its own shadow in the dark
Its own shadow in the dark
