Original version


Rush me to the good bits
skip over the pretty scenery
the queuing for tickets and waiting
take me into the heart of the action
where the shooting guns are killing the young
take me inside the debate, on the slick twists
of blades into truth and the evaporation of trust
for the man who told the truth

drip dry real

these legs are carrying me for thousands of miles
over the years they have developed more strength
erupt in vague waves of pain that fade instantly and become
as memories the same as does imagination to the stream of memory
sliding over it like a tide over a river bearing down with an insistent attack
upon reason

A tsunami rushes in and over you
and as you swim in the sea it aches with the real
the silence of dreaming surrender to the rushing in of sound
wiping clear the thoughts you can not share
unless by accident

on a highway
into a city
clay talks
and looks pretty

on a space journey
it pays to sleep

but on the back of a horse
it pays to not sleep much at all
although some would swear that the beasts know
what we can not ourselves tell