Rough Medley: Two for the Anti-Folk Blues!   (Semi-Filler)

I seem to always catch the lower moods,
The climbing out the trashcan blues...
Searching through the junk for a wrapper
Of the heavenly views...

I seem to always catch the higher moods,
The crawling out the smokestack blues...
Floating down the streets for a window
Of the girl I'll never lose...

I seem to always catch the closer moods,
The writhing off the lightbulb blues...
Clinging to the walls for a wisdom
In the refusing hues...

I seem to always catch the farther moods,
The whipping off the fan-blade blues...
Waiting out the scenes for a world
I can finally use...

I seem to always catch the deeper moods,
The mopping up the gut-stain blues...
Groping in the bloods for a wire
To the immaterial fuse...

I seem to always catch the subtler moods,
The sweeping up the ashtray blues...
Picking at the fumes for a whisper
From my secret muse...

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You may have said the bigger words,
May have read the heaviest books,
Taken the toys a little further...

But have you learned,
Tomorrow we aren't any older...


You may have found the ways from pain,
May have made the faster plans,
Played the music a little harder...

But have you learned,
Tomorrow we aren't any older...


You may have hit the finished line first,
May have been lit by the better fires,
Built your temples a little higher...

But have you learned,
Tomorrow we aren't any older...