Keel

The propheteer

The prophet's here

Only till August

Bearing down into the grass, down into the grass for me

The prophet's come

The prophet's good and stung

Gobbled up on cable wires

Dangling low and above the fires

They won't work out like the lonely ones

High wires

That bring the heathens out for a fight

Ergo sum

The game's grown young

There's a danger now in the town below

And the hobble of gawker's look across onto the road

There's a taser

And a brave young one

Spilling fiber like you, son

And the cherry pouts your lungs

Just stay here

Just stay here loving me

Or just stop bloody loving me

See now

Sweep behind the gauzy curtain

High rise

High and wild

I pick at you, my limestone

When you fiddle with your red stone

What are you without your flint then, sonny?

Can't count out your only lie

Can't you cap out your only lie

Sitting 'fore

Keel...

Not before

I was in front

Of the piqued fountain

The whole time