Readership As Author

from Zoetrope Woe by Hip Don't Dance

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lyrics

Well I'm all bogged down, holy crow.
You're a bag of cells, eukaryote.
My clothes look like Golgotha
On the floor in a pile of bones.
They hate me at the Circle K.
It's a time-wasting sacrificial rite
Debating happiness in line.
It gets no one their donuts.

Everyone is shattered, torn asunder.
I read my own way.
Slice that hip don't dope
From his zoetrope woe.

White sky, everyone is high.
I spent last night writing out my life
Like it was an epic Greek poem.
New jazz age online.

Everyone is shattered, torn asunder.
I read my own way.
I'm so glad you're reading again,
Even Hemingway.
I might be wrong, I haven't read them all.
You read your own way.
Slice this Southern Gothic
From his grotesque situation.

I really can't think straight
Through the slots on the subway.
We're fine fleshy shapes.

I stay up late
Almost every day.
Most artists say
It keeps the chills away.
But I never had the visions
And I never felt the inspiration.
So now I'm just slipping away.
I'm slipping away.

I really can't see straight
Through the slots on the subway.
We're fine fleshy shapes.

I'm aiming at the past.
I'm staring straight through the glass.
You're a molecule like me,
Quivering towards Elysium.

credits

from Zoetrope Woe, released December 5, 2013

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Hip Don't Dance Tucson, Arizona

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