The Feeders

The feeders feed on my every word
My syllables to sparks, to sparks
And chew and spit my purposes project
And fill their lungs with dreamer light

Don't you need to race to be the first to the head?
We feed the holes with our hands

The feeders fiend on my every word
My syllables do swell, do swell
And they grow up and up and on up
And soon balloon accumulous

Don't you need to race to be the first to the head?
We feed the holes with our hands

This reminds me of something, something we can do
This reminds me of something, something we can have

The feeders feed on my every word
My syllables are not enough
And chew and spit my projects project
And run on and run on