Course they will, how on earth could they not
All drugged up just minus the drugs
Sometimes, perhaps
Less of that
More about trying to paint a seriously sensuous literary picture
All up inside of their heads
Just what I want, even so much as need
The written word, in my oh so unlearned opinion as of yet, remaining relatively out of touch
For this ain’t no film, ain’t even a theatrical act so far
Just a toast to the mass of struggling artists who came before
It pours but is never, ever enough
When a rambunctious personality has been wholeheartedly stolen away by the age-old page
One painstaking day after the other

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