'washing the midnight blue out of work clothes'
washing the scent of blue & grey out of your work clothes
watching the morning dew rise out of the dandelions
watching the silent hue turn from light to bright
and watching the grass and trees turn to concrete and neon
semi-formulated pseudo-existentialist, slightly ontological
alienation,
and being found in things you'll never really find.
and you have no family, no deep-rooted songs
passed down and repeated so they stick to you
moreso than anything you'll ever write,
but you will write, you need it,
'so deep all the sex and dope in this world can't erase the need'