Eight Line Poem

The tactful cactus by your window
Surveys the prairie of your room
The mobile spins to its collision
Clara puts her head between her paws
They've opened shops down West side
Will all the cacti find a home
But the key to the city
Is in the sun that pins the branches to the sky

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Yeah.. Ya Know?.. Critics Man Critics Never Got Nothin Nice To Say man You know the one thing I notice about critics man? Is.. critics never ask me how my day went Well imma

C.C. Waterback, one tequila sunrise One's for my aching head, the other's for my bloodshot eyes Yeah, last night I let it all hang out, I guess that's how my head got

Never thought a train goin' any place could've changed my life Never thought I'd say I could go insane, 'til I saw your eyes And I had to take another look to