you wake up in the morning
and fall out of your bed
mean cat eat parakeets
and this one's nearly dead.
you dearly wish the wind shift
and greasy windows slide
open for the parakeet
who's colored bitter lime.
open the window
and lift into your dreams
lately, baby
you can barely breathe.
a broken wrist an accident
you know that something's wrong
you fold the leavings of your past
no one knows you've gone.
the sunspot flares of the early
nineties light up your wings.
and scan the shortwave radio
it's tracking outer rings.
open your window
to lift into a dream
baby, baby
you can starts to breathe
the tectonic dispatcher shifts
to smooth the ocean floor
and flattens out to warmer winds
of Brisbane's sunny shore.
where buddhas tend to mending wrists
a tea made from the leaves
of eucalyptus fragrances
and coriander seeds.
open the window
to lift into a dream
baby, baby
you can starts to breathe.
open your window
to lift into a dream
baby, baby
you can starts to breathe
you wake up in the morning
to warm Pacific breeze
where mean cars chew on licorice
and cannot climb the trees.