Sometimes, words get stuck in my mouth.
Like a sock caught in a washine's spin cycle.
Yes, I call washing machines washines because... duh?
And I'm filled with words
I make up, dig up, read, smell and see
Like a sock caught in a washine's spin cycle.
Yes, I call washing machines washines because... duh?
And I'm filled with words
I make up, dig up, read, smell and see
that my tongue doesn't want to be
But you see, I only have one meagre opening
And so many words struggling to rush out
And the custom officer my palate plays indulges in bureaucratic lethargy: never opening the gates to the masses
Only letting a select few; the worthy, the suitable, the appropriate, out at a time
But sometimes
The refugees waiting their turn to escape this mouth's wet confines, muster their numbers and swarm the gates
The fat officer can barely, luxuriously lift himself before he is inundated with words and letters rushing out through honesty's irrigation
But see
This mouth
But you see, I only have one meagre opening
And so many words struggling to rush out
And the custom officer my palate plays indulges in bureaucratic lethargy: never opening the gates to the masses
Only letting a select few; the worthy, the suitable, the appropriate, out at a time
But sometimes
The refugees waiting their turn to escape this mouth's wet confines, muster their numbers and swarm the gates
The fat officer can barely, luxuriously lift himself before he is inundated with words and letters rushing out through honesty's irrigation
But see
This mouth
is still small
My words will get trapped
so when they come out
Sometimes half
Sometimes all at once, know that they are
All aching to make that journey
From one hole to the next.
My words will get trapped
so when they come out
Sometimes half
Sometimes all at once, know that they are
All aching to make that journey
From one hole to the next.
