Constellations

Trace the stars
Draw your path
Walk in the shapes
of Constellations
Tell everyone
That you’re wandering
aimless
Don’t let on the plan
Don’t let on…

Make your bed
Of grass and gravel
Sleep in the peace
of Constellations
Tell everyone
That they’re rich and
they’re famous
Don’t let on the plan
Don’t let on…

I’d get high
But I’m afraid of heights
I’d get high
I wobble when I drive
And my heart is
made of Styrofoam
It’s been packaged
Just for you

Talk with the stars
Make a promise
To live in the loft
of Infatuation
Tell my everything
Where your wandering
Mind Is
Tell me the plan
Tell me…

(august 1993)
© Robert Emmett McWhorter
published by Hermetic
Medical Records (ASCAP)