Nit Picking Fights with Flies.

Maybe I'm whispering in your ear a secret. I still feel the wind through my brows, my head, my toes- if I'm not wearing shoes of course. Of course! How would I feel the wind through my toes, if I'm not wearing shoes of course! Or the hat on my head, or the mask on my face. How could I feel the wind?

I'll agree it's buzz, but maybe it's a secret. Maybe the whispering buzz can still ride with the wind I do not feel. The wind I do not feel. The hat on my head, the mask on my face, the shoes of course! Maybe I can still taste the rain the wind pours.

But first for buzz, second for taste, the wind will pour another day. Listen to me if you ride the rain. I'll taste you another day. Pour my secrets through the drumming hums, every time you hit the grum.

The voice will hear through the empty shallows we will not see, but we can believe. The voice will drum the buzz, drown secrets to dust. Level mountains to must. Show me the buzz and I will believe. But level with me if you want my ears. Tell me the truth and then I will hear.

Otherwise you may also just be another buzz, and another tear.