"Cornfields"
Fill every page and every line
With complaints and thirty whines
Jumping from where dots and crosses should go, but not
Now I’m never worried ‘bout completing my thoughts
Revision is for those
Wishing on a hit
But I write for fun
If you find something
I say incomplete
Don’t worry, I’m not done
Water gushes through bricks
Signs fall when ‘quakes hit
Who knows where to stop now?
Authority’s fallen to the ground
Branch after branch
Chance after chance
Taken and mistaken
For something forsaken
Recycled and rehashed
I’ve found the stash
In a hole underneath
Now I’m cooking up recipes
What’s the use in creativity?
As far as the eye can see
Ideas rise but you’re too wise
To sit now to write them down
Cornfields are all the same
And it is such a shame
While trees differ but litter
Is easier to copy over sober
My ears want music
They want inventive
Pure, direct, square lyrics
I wish somebody would hear this
