Notes From The Overground

Insidious crooked fingers
Point no way.
And it is the very mention of your favorite song
That reminds me of cast out minor chord melodies played.
You didn’t have a favorite color.
You had a minor disease.
And it was easier to wait around,
Then airlift in our supplies.
And I stayed around for eyes.
For the vagrant sidestreet promise of
Coughing wind in the [...]