i'm jonzing at the genius man yakking from my black-box
laying down tracks of thoughts like a strong armed negra' in the sun

he's a general story and i'm a private enterprise

what o what twill it take to wrap it in a bow?
what will i make to seal the train as red wax to all scarlett letters
and make all the genius fetus boys in the U.S. winterland sing a 'hail mary' for their long-lost king?

today i'm scrambling up the shoulders of giants
don't know at all if i will ever make a stand
hoping i can get there without peeing my pants


...(this rant is dedicated to mr. mike patton)