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As a mothman
I always stand on trains and trams
Leave a little wing dust
On a chair these days and...
Oh how people stare
Like they'll catch a certain ...
And I fumble in my pocket
For a flame, but no
You're not even allowed
To smoke in trains, so
I tuck my wings
Their large decorative eyes
Quiet beside, like a gentle ol' man
A little behind in his dry cleaning
Here's a giddy pair
Joined at the wire, ear to ear
I could cleave them here
In a single premonition
I'm never ever wrong
That illness wove my pupa
Like a song
And I beat my
Centuries out to it
But young people in love
Can't tell 'em anything
Move along...
