bullet

the thing about gravity, it won't ever let on, the gavel won't knock yet, it's just the falling and falling, it's a wholly different day, than what i woke in yesterday, blink at the ceiling, and everything has changed, and there is nothing to offer, that won't look meek in the morning light, i got nothing to offer, but words that just keep falling down all the time, hey you're a bullet, you're a bullet now, given the blacktop, and a donkey to ride, there's some that you'll follow, and some you'll bury in the night, and august is gleaming, and it's easy to forget, that the record is leaning, to overwrought and underfed, hey you're a bullet, you're a bullet now, 'i'm taken with purity', one time a mouth said to me, with the moon on her shoulders, and the water in her hair, and with all of your clothes, lying there on the bank, and all of your troubles, brought to the water softly sank