spent a year trying to teach myself how to hold parts of genius here
to call upon
when the wells gone dry
but here it is
summer
and the street is simmering
and i aint got nothing but rewritten lines
nothing new is born in this heat
just beats broken agaisnt itself in the silence of morning
there is a mirror somewheres in your skin
that remembers to tell the time
even when our bodies forget how to count down the minutes
something in you tells me parts of all the secrets we've shared
keep me waiting
for more genius too spill over my body
there are so many beginnings
but no endings
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