Living on the Island
I'm stranded on a cloud
Sir Bently doesn't cry.
Stepping to the precipice
Peering down the down the cliff
Peaking in my crows eye
O'Hare sips a mai tai.
My Nimbus scrapes a tower
A storm passes by
The air sticks of money
Vaseline in someone's hair.
I feel the sun's heat
But the heavens seem so dark.
I try to jump,
Maybe to my death
To the Hampton Beaches
Where dead peasants grow on trees.
But yet my chains tie me down
and the key to freedom is giving up.
This prison cell is my freedom
A delusion from the heat.
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