Frusciante, Balzary, Smith, Kiedis, Rodriguez, Rother

This is so startling, I feel as though it was only meant to touch that moment of time
And dissipate with the chemicals of the sweat-induced echo
Six who know the end is near, and bellow for the next circuit of lamentation
Arranged in the mellow landscape of divine intervention
Displeased apprehension, following the formal upbringing of a false god
Turn your taste buds inward to the opening night
In a steady synagogue, redeeming the fog in stride
Before preparing the nameplates of the last remaining to stand
I keep recalling these dreams in a staircase, swallowing that of a distant voice
But these are my own discrepancies, allowing my ideals to shine through
I would have given her the blessings of a criss-crossed battered day, at 6 am
The moral of the story is that the story has no organ, no bass to fill
The template of this glory is the resounding torment of the kill
Gift of cunnilingus on the belated birthday celebration evening
What does she stand for in my vision of the genesis?
And have I found her, staged up in another clever mess?
I had never seen eyes turn to a purer state of clarity prior to this
And envelope me so confidently, I myself could shatter the forests calamity
If they keep this up, we're surely come running back for more
How the evidence creeps back and folds against us in the decisive intake
Would the closest mirror to a hummingbird resemble the image we all had it up to be
Hand-fed the clovers that dampen the mule on its turbulence to trails end
You did all this as well, without opening the telegram, or simply join me in song
More and more the travelers come to feed
On the jovial glow from the autumn road
Do judge more closely, she may speak
Do harness closer, the tools necessary to harvest the weepings of
Discharted in this domain, the magistrate has no further need for
Or if we disengage, is the proposal of the skin peeling backwards off measure?
We only began our masterpiece. The early blooms were extracted in breeze
Yet the tempest in our refuge has no need to impede
The earliest we've seen the spring
Is during demise of our solstice
Wool crests of guidance
Hold strong on the prodigies