Oh what did I think would happen   Bank robberies and a few drinks slip back in   Every page torn out and a plaintiff penciled in doubt   Color slides on into your ink   Landscapes strung up and still wet   Form all ranges that lay flat   Barely spring but green enough   Obviously scarred but not too tough      Every single instinct running out like regs, every one I ever had   Every fork determent following your lead, evergreens and a foam sea   Formulas and foul lips tied in canvas bags shreded into tiny scabs   Every single instinct running out like regs, every one I ever had      Every single instinct