rude food/ art whisperer / Jim Morrison

k so then i pull off the blueprint skin 

leaving behind 

just what i wrote ... 

n you would not be able to 

trace it  

its a derivative not a cover version 



*****************



n I'm sitting in this workers cafe right 

Im feeling his loneliness n his pain 

n the rain is lashing 

down on the dark window 

i take his hands 

n the lonely wind seems to blow 

between us 

n he feels like he has nothing

his girlfriend his career 

his drugs 

all means nothing to him 


***********

the way to a mans heart is

through his stomach 

hes not even interested 

in his needles 

let alone eating your roast ... 


n the dance will only 

drive us further apart  


a heart spinning out of control 

i reach out my arms 

to embrace the warmth of thin air 

n he's gone