Nothing's Boy

Lyrics: Ken Nordine
Music: The Grateful Dead

I sometimes think there never blows so red
The rose as where some buried Caesar bled
That every hyacinth the garden wears
Dropped in its lap from some once-lovely head

Many times I think of myself as nothing’s boy
Who climbs the spirals of his light
His heretic tic-tock muscle measuring
In its closed circle
His blood’s unfree flowing
Ups will bring him down
To the clouds of zero

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