You're a little bit of water.
And a little bit of blood.
A little bit of reason.
And a little bit of luck.
You're a little bit of fever.
And a little bit of love.
A little bit of falling.
And a lot of getting up.
You're just another drunk
In just another dive bar.
Saying cheer as last times
Stay in close as last night.
You're just another waitress
Stretching every paycheck.
Behind on her statements for education payments.
You're just another traveller,
You think you've got character because
You've been to India or Africa
To study the vernaculars.
A lonely man, who got the bony hands.
Picking up the soda cans to pay his wage.
He's a little bit of water,
A little bit of blood.
A little bit of reason,
A little bit of luck.
You're just a little bit of fever,
And a little bit of love.
A little bit of falling
And lots of getting up.
You're just another actress
With just another agent.
Selling drugs to pay rent
And pawning off your bracelets.
Just another overweight
Living on leftover takeaway.
Addicted to thick-shakes,
Ignoring the headaches.
A Bob Dylan want-to-be,
Sitting in economy.
Pouring over poems
Like they're tickets to the lottery.
An unlucky citizen,
To watch the house he's living in
Filling with water again.
He's a little bit of water,
A little bit of blood.
A little bit of reason,
A little bit of luck.
You're just a little bit of fever,
And a little bit of love.
A little bit of falling
And lots of getting up.
You're just another bride
On the best day of her life
A skydiver on his ninth flight
Relaxing for the first time.
Just another dancer
Dressed up in the Funk.
You're resting in the build ups
And waiting for the drums.
You're just another father
Who just met his new grandson.
Sitting next to grandma
Looking at the new mom.
You're just another activist
You're working for the peace core.
Another first kiss
From the boy you got the thing for.
You're a little bit of water.
And a little bit of blood.
A little bit of reason.
And a little bit of luck.
You're a little bit of fever.
And a little bit of love.
A little bit of falling.
There aint no medecine
Or remedy for this fever furious in me.
It's got claws so sharp
It could cut a man in two.
There aint no arsenal
To a fated wiff that's got eyes like ice
And an ice-like grip.
I'm flushed with the fire
And fever-ish for you.
And the tonics barely
Scratch the surface.
This fever grows
Like a plague with purpose.
Made the cold sweats and the basement fungus
Where poetry purs
And the words are owners.
The wonder wouldn't break
If they're posts and herders(????)
A girl so fly that her skirt gets nervous.
With tricks so wild
That you'll coach the circus.
So i'm gonna write until my words are worthless.
No appetite
Could compete
With this fever furious in me.
So im going to write at silent even.
Though... Though... Tough
You're just another version
Of every other person.
You could have been a surgeon.
You could have been a nun.
I'm just another hipster
With long hair and whiskers,
And these pants that don't fit.
Sat staring at the sun
Well non of us are any more the wiser
Than any other kind of person
Living next to where the other assholes run.
So I'm just gonna write and sing play and
Love my friends, and drink
'Cause I don't have a clue to when
The end is gonna come.