Pine Needle from wOrm days by Worm Days

This is where I was to claw in like a spike,
plowing when I move,
growing 50 arms and eyes'
invisible to time's pressing laws
in my shroud of noise
banging and clamoring of the ground
and into the wind stream
Crash and lift, crash and lift
refining my shape, softening the soil... crash and lift

This where I dried up and fell like a pine needle
Got blown in through some front door to some townhouse
where nobody lives and got tangled into to carpet
and I will remain here undisturbed

and when time deems it appropriate
I will pretend to be something else
something small or soft this time.
Some sort of shape where I can drift
back into that beautiful machine
and its dark and smokey hollows.
An impostor amongst impostors
disguised as gears or pistons
looking to slip out into a flash of light

• Folk
• Lo-fi
• bedroom folk
• loop music
• singersongwriter
• Hollywood