Airwaves to Dead Ends

Where's my baby? She's bored
And as bitter as cold,
And she's flying on airwaves to dead ends.
When we set snares, it shows
All the wars fought in droves
For a bird and the wet blood she's blamed for.

There's a blind man who's bald
And he wants to beat doors.
Was the blow from my bird still redeeming?
When you're free, why the book?
All the wrong words have wings.
With time, walls that are sought are bliss-driven.

When there's dealing, I bet
By the book. Who's the best?
While I fear it, I'm dying, I'm seething.
What I've bought with my being
Starts to choke, soon it flees,
And it's boisterous, which shows time's sand cooking.

And the zippers that bloom
Have to fall to the moon
While the viper will bleed in his treason.
Then the blue jays will spawn
All that flows through the lawn
And the purest will beckon hereafter.

With mistakes we plunder.

Kiss bare-assed hustlers in your dredged home,
And you'll be harmed--how?
It's busted sprinkling. That's the main thing.
Guess where our new math's truth can grow--why?
'Cause in the wrong fun,
There's pills fine for change to toads, moron.

More bread is coming if you don't know
How much you won't show.
The viper's falling. You should coin hymns.
Queer ravings can’t shoot fear if sins show
When the blues blow,
And airwaves fly over blistered shins.

Man has a wind-up clowning toad
That rattles falser than our goals.
Share talks with crazy Creole hoes
Who whine all night for fancy clothes.
Now many things are burning cold,
But jewels that glisten for the bard
Will ruin rum in June so fast
When fallen suns have hung on walls
To heat the rocks that stop the holes.