WRITTEN BY: JUSTIN BLACKBURN
The exotic brown haired goddess
holding my hand in the passenger seat,
Steven Page’s voice singing the speakers clean,
the officer who died for this highway,
the life breathing it up.
All of it is evidence that God must love me
or I must love myself
or I am scooping enough soul into my body
down at the universe factory.
Of course depending on what you believe
but it doesn’t matter much to me,
I believe in me.
I believe the evidence.
I don’t need to take a serious sip of coffee and think.
I don’t need to hire a psychic detective.
I don’t need a scientist.
I don’t need to be told I have a big dick.
I don’t need a billion dollars.
I don’t need to solve the murder of the missing ghost
to know what my heart desires most.
The evidence is everywhere.
There is no fire like a river.
All the proof you need is in the feeling.
The killer dances naked in every open field.
The murder weapon is my mind.
What could you search for?
You are the Source of Love Divine.
Why would Love search for itself?
The trees have all our answers.
The thief is always the truth
and nothing can ever be stolen.
Lay your love lights inward.
Love is really unreally real for real.
Destroy the seeker.
Be honest with me.