sticky fingers

tomorrow i'll be far away
the fates will hound me
out of town
into the city
people will smile and hide
pointing their happy fingers
it'll be said i lied
and as for me
in a private garden
reaching for a pardon
with my sticky fingers
tomorrow i'll be far away
like the ghost of a dog
out of town
into the cat fog
climbing up a bean pole
picking out a soul
with my sticky fingers
taking a quick bite
to satisfy my appetite
before i retire
with my sacred fire
into my new studio.