Snow Globes EP

Oh Check It

[after Daedelus]

I don't get to travel all that much, but it doesn't stop me from dreaming twig harmony in Rome.  Walking the Chinese stone paths or walking in space.  I'm not always laced, strapped, gat got, or god whacked, but I know what it is to feel out of time.  Is that not something?  Bass drops against my ear like bad rain in London and I hit on twelve year olds in Thailand and I push up in Korea where you can't chew gum in Singapore.  I hear, these days.  I shoot off guns in darkest Africa over boundaries and spit up blood in Russia and sex down south in the good old use us of A and bring boxes of ammunition to where Texas turnsintomexico and hike the plates where Chile kisses the sea.  I don't do any or maybe some of theses, but I've never been good at math but I do know there's more than one god and he smiles on who she wants.  Fix a point or find a blade at the small of your back where show me your hands does not apply.  It all boils down to.  Where you're lost and where you're found and everyday should be that anthem from that movie where that dog finds his way home and is bounding over a hill to his owners, and some days it's like that.  Collared on Morocco and staring at the zoo like you should be me and I should be you.

Oh Check It

And you kill kill kill kill. No way to take it back or the matters of the facts or the documents permanent ink blacked out.  Blacked out, it doesn't count if you're not awake for it or anything in be seams.  Everyone slant rhymes when they have nothing better to say or maybe I should talk about fire escapes and bleak New Yorks or sky written Boulder days when you can see Denver nestled in the armpit of the plains like a bad skin tag on the face of the Earth or maybe I should talk about good gardens tended by bad people in the Hill trying to make white out of the gray areas of their lives.  I dunno it all gets kind of fuggish, but oh check it, have you ever seen the sun set in bad lake effect fog over the Point in Pittsburgh.  That still gets my eyelashes wet with dew drops and I don't cry because I'm strong, but I do cry because I know it's only the city beneath me, looking down from Highpoint Overlook that makes me so and I know I biked there to get it.

Oh Check It

I keep telling everyone, wherever they are coming from to pocket a snow globe while they are there.  For me.  My mother ruined it.  She tried to send one and had no forethought to pack it right.  It broke on the way.  Ruined everything else in the box.  The entire point, the entire point, as I live and breath is to put that fucker in my hand, face to face, and know that I was thinking of you the entire time I was away, and you, away from me.  Exchanging thoughts on the matter, however briefly.  An excuse to say hello.  I still collect them.  I remember throwing my last one down a flight of stairs and watching the flakes go "foooooo".  Send me one, won't you.  I promise I'll save it this time.   It won't be a "stop party people and listen to me" kind of moment.  I'm over myself.   When I shout out "oh check it" I'll be pointing at you and you better be on the dance floor.  Breaking it down.  Burning it all to the God damn ground.