Maybe there is…something, else out there, more eyes or less, to see more or less, than me. Because Lord knows
I’ve missed a lot.
I’ve seen sunsets too much,
But always staring at something else when it rose.
I drag this piece of plastic with keys of white and black through the dirt. It hits grooves and rocks, rolling over the footprints I make before it.
Do my songs help you? Because they help me, so I hope they help you too.
And if there’s aliens out there, I hope it helps them too.
But I’ve been flying too low for Aliens to see.
10/15/16 12:09 AM