Finger Paint

Cursive, cursive, cursive
Bending, breaking all the stars
The moon looked down upon the world
The shining splendor of the bombs
The pretty smoke that tagged along
His throat and down into his lungs
It has begun; the blood evaporates
And rains on everyone
And all the trees are living, breathing
Pomegranates in their branches
And the sand is shifting, sea to shining sea
It has no answers, it is dancing with the wind
The moon looks down upon the sinners and the saints
And pulls the tide with drowsing eyes that taste of paint
Acrylic memories on canvas fingers
Kings and queens and spitting ether
Wedding rings on silver strings
That dangle from the necks of preachers' wives
And all our lives are wasted
Running from The Taste of Ink
And hide and seek the tide and sink
The water washed away the pain
The water washed away.
The water washed away the paint
The water washed away.
The water washed away the gray
The red, the bombs, the dead, the taste
The sleeping heads are all erased
And full of lies or full of grace,
The water washed away.