Souls, although where we meet. This

Hose a lazy Morphine.

But I, Im stretching to see over

Your shoulders and past your priest

And paper cups and paper shoes

Give backs to me, but I see right

through

And I know why you overslept

So gray, gray, slow rain.



Im happier than you.

And Im too high to follow through

Home, like the bedpan he needs.

And the hose, thats not supposed to be

But I, Im stretching to see over your

Flowers and Time magazines

Now I believe in what you do

The pain will cease

Well I know why you overslept

To be home, to be