One
Ticket to Tokyo on a boat,
Wood on a wave
I hear that Steven sleeps with the stingrays now,
So I fashioned a history book into a sail as the Japanese wind seemed to blow these words in
I
Came to Kyoto where now he
Is on display,
Plated glass, no one dare ask him
If his life is a picnic it's clear as he points to the headphones that howl the words the wind sang upon arrival
Itchy
Ichiban blue son
Itchy
Ichiban blue son
Why does he need to come out here?
There are museums in Oklahoma.
Could the lines in his hand have proposed this plan?
I measured the footsteps outside temple walls, and then juggled some sand ‘til I saw him again
He
Keeps a white candle in his hair
And now works with clay,
Wax drips down upon the panda cow that he has made
Itchy
Ichiban blue son
Itchy
Ichiban blue son
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