Vultures

real roads lay in
they try to get you playing
but you know it's gonna need your time
well keep it out of your mind
it's something made up in a mean, mad mould
and the while it takes to wiggle's
gonna weaken you whole, why

if you're mimicking the moon right, just
scared of stepping down the south sides
it's a feather or a fence, i'm
feeling every sound intensify
fast down the figure,
seeking something sweeter.

see the vultures sweeping through the window pane
nothing new nor sad nor strange
just the way the sky thrives
fly on vultures, feed on every final
they play a fickle kind of game