tes levres

"drive", the spot on the road- the ciggy tips the lips, taj mahal talkin' about cheatin' on you, i'm approachin' you. the truck in front of me, nasty size, i push past fast above eighty degrees, ask you please if we can stay up later. baltimore to paris, new york, back, then forth, like "come forth with everything you got, i'm yours", like a mix between the old and new sound, so it has a hot bass but fucks with some minor chords that just scream in a brazen anger, even ol' taj says "damn, give me that again". "you fit me", hit me with a reach, you could teach me so much if i had any patience or capacity to learn. if i speak one language, and you speak another, and we think in a collective language different than the first two, how can we talk? eyes are the window to the gut, but ours are the same color, so does that mean our guts are the same color? I didn't want to talk about souls. i mean that in a figurative way. i'm not talking to anyone at all, the truck is still in front of me, i tried to change lanes, but can't find space. i guess i could just go for it, and forget about the space, but i'm not one to gun it. i think i'll take my time.