Lyrics

From behind the screen door Fred presented himself to Joseph Who impulsively unlatched the perplexed and faulty locks Bringing in the final [?] infliction The wine was a vintage, its color bloodshot red, tearful Its spirit rippled with the rantings Of drowning soul searchers Its alluring shape settled on the mantle Where it bred And shed its fragrance Permitting itself to the atmosphere As we conversed Words poured out, meaningless formation Philosophical stabs Meanwhile, Joseph pried the screen door to let a fly out Returning to us to read his poem And it went like this: "In a forest I feel as in a crowded room The trees sigh And leaves rustle In minute conversation Of the time of day that placed my mind And the bored people like stones in a dry creek Dry, dusty, no sound No light in eyes untrue Only my sigh in a room"