Joel and I on a Friday in November

tell me a story, dance me a jig
then eat the fat from the back of a pig
i rhyme with flavor, i rhyme with soul, i rhyme with rap words out of my mouth hole
i love my carla, and she loves me, we both sitting round and enjoying our tea
she is at work, and i guess i am too, just spinning stories from my hand to you
retreat to the hill, we call as we fled, running from our problems, running from our heads
there we relax regroup and be kind, there we forget all our problems and time
we sit and we smoke, we drink and we laugh, we tell stories and jokes and then take a nap
we wake feeling rested, we look to the sky, the blue has grown warmer, the fire is high
so back we must go, but return too we will, to our secret excape, our love on the hill.
the end

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