Josh Honeyman

Here she comes again
Down the staircase
She never passes without
Saying hello

In the silver morning hollow
Trembling and getting old

It's time for you to rise
And evaporate
In the sun
Sometimes it can weigh
A ton

Keep all your crows away
Hold skinny wolves at bay
In silver piles of smiles
May all your days be gold

I'm so sorry, my spirit's rarely in my body
It wanders through the dry country
Looking for a good place to rest

 

All you've got to do is look in the sky and wish You might see his face in the clouds or relaxing in a spirit ditch He's been known to sleep on piles of dry leaves Abandoned on october lawns Sometimes he awakens with spiders on his eyelids