THERE again on that shore
it may be an island
i always seem to go back
to those volcanic islands
the den of habitat behind me
but i am not going there now
now is for the sandy white beach
with the rippling waves

far to my right i see the eruptions
splashing like a water spray
but hitting so so hard
instead of creating a rainbow
it is changing the water to rock
its molten hands reach out
to devour the waves and sand
so hot

and i am running towards the bridge
where the road is consumed
by this slow moving fire
just in time to jump off into the creek
where my only salvation
is the phish van in the stream train
under the bridge beneath the waterfall
this is another world so i will
stay here and phish for awhile...

not long before that i was drawn
to the arena where the band played on
and my poor little pink pinto
was crashed and stuck in the dirt
guarded by the great black street dog
through the fenceposts and mud i trod
to escape to the road where freedom lies
where the wind hits your thumb

late...