Jazz ordinaire

When it comes, they sip its chugs and pours, by the way, the carnal rain of course.
Knows one talk to document its travel, drip drip drop, and then around again.

How strange its getting harder for water to clean us off.

Don't you squint to see to watch my hand move, up your arm and past your filming eyes. You're not in tears, at least I think you could be, trading years for active camouflage.

How strange we're dancing harder as water tames off the town.

To me you'll be a legendary truth.
Breathing in all the past skin made by the wars.