pistachio

sit down and fire away,

i know it's tricky when you're feeling low,

when you feel like your flavour

has gone the way of a pre-shelled pistachio...

i know you're weighed down

you're fed up with your heavy

your boots

laced with melancholy notion's all you own...

i do - like sugar - tend toward the brittle and sticky when spun

and i know my demeanor

has gone the way of a photo left out in the sun...

so i try to keep myself in lillies and flax seeds...

oh what a folly- fooling just yourself...

sit down and smoke away,i wouldn't knock it till you're in them shoes

oh watch as ours subtlety blows away as a blusher gives way to a bruise...

but seemly, we'd freely make a trade-off

a dry rot to take the weight off

swap the boots for red shoes