electric thingI'm made of bits of song and paperclips
Whalespeak and stars and a touch of magic.
Sprinkled with sugar and a lot more of sea salt,
We are never quite empty but never quite whole.
It was well-meaning but useless in the end.
I have subculture reflected in my eyes and windmills stuck in my teeth.
And as the lights go out, all I can say is
(With faerie dust on our tongues):
"There is sugarcane under my skin and stories under your shoes."
I wish it could've been more-we were the story of the year.
(If you mean the kind that sits on bookshelves and gathers dust.)
You have a map in your pocket. Fifteen dollars and a lifetime;
Adventure in your freckles and flutes in your fingertips.
I take my mug to my lips and without looking at the script, I add,
"Have fun, electric thing."