Digging blood worms

Digging blood worms when the tide recedes,
Singing pop tunes when the soldiers leave,
The drum taps
On roof tops
Marching our storm
Our battles and struggles,
Bring burning gods from the subtle mind
Just you and me and the world we believe

Can hardly call’em feet,
the pink crusted stumps,
on the New York Streets,
always the New York Streets
pushing her load, those shocks through her soles,
that thankfully stop ‘bout a month ago,
that die-a-betty’s a’work’n her magic,
she won’t be walk’n no where, real soon

She is the playwright and the player,
The background and the lead,
I am the critic and the criticized
The cross and the crucified.  

Those poetic types, sorrowful saps,
Sulking around every corner,
Looking for your Eden
F**k you, it’s all Eden, all hell, call your god, your echo, your wet dementia, your one missed foot fall from the abyss, going to the grocery store,  eyeing up a girl you can’t score, it’s all the same, lube up your sensitive a*s and dance.....

A prate fall, cane’s thrown, he’s face down, about to be walked on,
He died, dead right here at Penn station, neath the gleam of the angels,
How long to I stop, don’t I have a train to catch, a train to where I’m going,
Where’s he going?

Eden spins tales, and yarns, comedies and dramas in the same breathe, sometimes the same act, all tumbling tumbling out into the awful notnothing
Somewhere, we’re there, we just can’t know it, cuz drama no drama if you’re faking,
And actor will tell ya that

She’s the one that walks with burden
Recognizable to anyone at anytime,
                    Pray for me mother
                    At the hour of my death
She has to hold on with one hand, she has two bags,
She walks down, five stairs with one, walk back to take the other down,
And yes I helped her and yes I’ve gotten my reward for saying that I did
                    Your son’s so busy saving souls
                    Hardly calls
                    You know he’s sorry
She’s bent and weathered, every weather the world can muster
is etched on her face, but she smells happy
Like all good baked things
                He’s left you to the world
                There is no greater moral test
                Then how we treat the weak
                Mother of God, prayer for us
                Good Mother, who teaches the worship
                of the warm round bells of infants
                       
and yes I mentioned Jesus and water, because I can’t not mention Jesus and water, cuz it’s the story I’m bound to tell

Ahh and the digg’n’s good today, filled my bucket, at 30 cents a piece, got enough to get my sons teeth fixed,

Yeah, sometimes it’s alright, not too cold, not too hot, up early, cuz the tide waits for no man, and when that Sun starts peeking, just breaking, like it’s melting the horizon, well I just feel free