turning over rocks [1997]

We lost our naivity somewhere in those grey plastic bushes,
the ones they use to landscape gardens for the colorblind;
we spend our days, turning over rocks
Here, innocence... Come back, come back...
I promise not to sell you to the bodyless candy-head man
I promise not to flush you down the toilet again
I promise not to take you for granted -- I'll take you for free.

Be tossed in infinity, come stare into ray-casting wishes,
the ones they use to captivate visitors to the labyrinth
we bend our maze, turning over rocks
Here, in four cents... Come back, come back...
I promise not to spell you in endless candy-head strands
I promise not to rush you down the toilet again
I promise not to break you barehanded -- I'll break you gently.

The caust of lucidity rubs bare thin rows of spastic pushes,
the ones they use to communicate in silent tones for the skull;
we mend our ways, turning over rocks,
Here is our sense... Come back, come back...
I promise not to tell you all my godless candy-head plans
I promise not to hush you down the toilet again
I promise not to make you walk slanted -- I'll make you love me.