Collector of Genius
You left your changepurse on the stagecoach
The search for its beauty spread far and wide
The preacher who claimed he had E. S. and P.
Said, ‘If she’s got i.d., you can make her your bride.’
I am a collector of genius
My electric museum still shines
I keep my cool labelled in transparent boxes
And I can, if I want, use your name for this rhyme.
When the moon named her lover, the sun pulled a gun
Yelled ‘Take all your phases, and move it.’
The subsequent fight left the earth in the dark
And I’ve got the clips that can prove it.
A king who I know burned his fingers and toes
>From a fire in his red lucite kitchen
To keep off his blues and to find him new shoes
All my anarchist friends had to pitch in.
I am a collector of genius
My acoustic museum still shines
I keep my cool labelled in transparent boxes
But I know when to have a good time.
Imagine a custom ice house
Where the ceilings are fans of the walls
Where a map of the carpet
Has never been finished
And guides cross paths in the halls.
My chef makes his soup with panache, and cheese
Whenever we celebrate small victories
On the nights of the whirlwind, when God mows his lawn,
The lights may go out, but the feast will go on.
I am a collector of genius
My Shaker museum still shines
I keep my cool labelled in transparent boxes
But I wouldn’t mind having a sign.
- Phil Thibodeau
Posted by duver001 at October 31, 2004 8:27 PM