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Array
(
[sid] => 122755
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Seaside Avenue Blues
[time] => 2006-07-05 01:30:53
[hometext] => These are the Seaside Avenue Blues
[bodytext] => There is a town by the city border; folks call it the City of Salt It’s famous for disagreement but there’s really nobody at fault And the townspeople keep their doors at an awkward halt Like desperate ghosts keeping in they’re socializing like a murmured cult And, answered again was the telephone line Where Miss Valley Day had me fill out her order to dine I don’t know about her shores, but her slopes are doing just fine Maybe I need clearer vision but I just can’t read her sign I started out in high school King and hopeless like a royal fool The shed was empty but I can make out a big man’s tool What some people do just to be something invested as cool It’s like playing the part of rocking chair when you’re made out to be a stool Simply put it’s all rain horses and fiery ants There are those galloping through water while others are burning under plants And jokers just deny while others make up decent rants While writer’s toil away for other’s to recite their prepared chants Nomadic moles search the world over like it were the whirl of a rice man’s bowl They’re blind but they’re trying to peek at some destination known as a soul But little do these animals know they are not in any found control No, it’s never the mole deciding whether or not to leave that hole I could be wrong, but I’m not, no I know that I’m right So please stop with the sunglasses, I’m feeling ready for some light Just be sure to keep the hourglass spinning on into the night And keep your arms wide open, you know I aint looking to fight It’s all over now; you can give me all the compliments you can feed The anarchist know it isn’t about what you want it’s about what you need So if you’re looking for some direction, baby, I got just what you should heed And don’t you question my direction, everything I write will take you where I lead Seaside Avenue, it’s got the message blinking round the trumpet’s interior If you look through it like a kaleidoscope you will see what’s near Bards like me shouldn’t tell you what’s to be nervous or what’s to fear But Honey Pie, believe me, you need to get the hell out of here [comments] => 1 [counter] => 161 [topic] => 49 [informant] => franciswolf [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => mystical )
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