41 extract blues

We lovers of the soul
just get me to that new weather
Surrounded by my symphony of broken instruments,
there’s a cobra in the temple,
And my Greek is so terrible these days….
how do you measure a memory?
it’s going to take me years to catch my breath

sly smiles from the corners of yr mouth-
heaven help me if they don’t take cash on delivery
And in these dreams w|o sound,
yr all stars & galaxy
& oxygen for me,
I’ve made the mistakes a young man makes-
you had all the savants at your toes,
and with your savior faire,
& flaxen hair,
you are why they say Life is Unfair,
mademoiselle

And how much do we really know about the stars?
enough to call them ours??
so much for the world when I’m not speaking;
like from genesis to revelations-
had us in a slow burning dream,
& after so many years of winter,
you are an exception,
even to the exception.