(((hairy moth owl 2)))

Lyrics

[Verse 1] I was chilling in Powell's, chatting with Gary Groth When I spotted an owl dressed like a hairy moth I said, "Excuse me Mr Groth, but I got to go eavesdrop" "I can't believe he's shopping and not asleep in a treetop" He had a "New York is Book Country" tote bag And wherever he walked, he left a trail of dope quote tags I said, "You going to a fortune cookie factory or something?" He said, "Ha-ha, yes! My chariot's the Great Pumpkin!" We jumped in He nod-gestured to his driver, Esther Equinox Who was dressed like she'd caught sequin-pox The squash carriage progressed over creeks and rocks We coasted up to a treehouse that hosted deep freak-outs The guests were decked out in human costumes exhumed from lost tombs I kept my eye on Esther as she rolled across the room Monkeyboard played a funky chord "ber ber!" And it occurred to me to check on our ride in case anyone was hungry for our gourd Hunkydory, as the girl from the nord country drunkly poured from the berry broth cauldron Hairy Moth Owl lounging with the owl kin all around him They played hopscotch Instead of a rock they threw a topnotch stopped pocket watch Toss, catch The claw snatched it from a moss patch And darkness started to cross-hatch Then he asked me, "Does your affect and cause match? Do you treat your wife/life with as much care as you give a song? Do you write for posterity even though your kids can't live as long?" I said, "Why were you at the bookstore? I thought you were nocturnal?" He said, "We looked for this My bound blackboard chalk journal." [Verse 2] Prairie dog howled as her pup sucked a clogged dairy duct mouthful Hairy Moth Owl, shorty parked, patient, peaceful I stripped thorny bark off a branch for bare-tree bow dowel Bent them like a story arc to construct an easel A productive way to weasel out of answering the question He put his bound pad of mini chalkboards on the tray Walked toward it then away Made a sad sound "hmmphmphmm" Whinnied like seagulls that orbit the bay I wanted to talk more, didn't know what to say He said, "Cat got your tongue? Wrung dry? Stung fly pop flat your lung? Did the rung slat crack and for a hot sec, you hung from one hand? Suntanned and clung? You better raise up like you're your own parents Grown talent alone prone to clone arrogance I'm gonna go play now And if you think of something to say, then go wake up and tell Greybrow" He left me stumped like a clear-cut old growth He jumped, disappeared, steered toward the cold north Greybrow's grey brows looked like my step-grandfather's moustache Like a cigarette that's just ash Like someone who don't trust cash I couldn't tell if he was wake or sleep I didn't make a peep The space in front of his face deep as a lake or a pond floor I picked up some chalk and I drew a blind contour My mind wandered like a flying condor And the chalk from a tool chest with a jeweled crest that said "Cool Quest: My Divine Sponsor" When I looked at the board, I was floored by what a blind line'd conjured H was the legs M was the wings O was the head Ear tuft, crown for kings Upside down, so tight Snow white on pitch black, mirrored the low light