It's always some blue hour
I put so many buckets down
I tried to shower ink upon the page
Tried to start the race
But nothing moves
Rope's supposed to wrangle/lasso all the blue
Into shapes like bulls or horses
But instead it breaks
Hold that shit for years
Grin from ear to ear
It could have been blue air
Counterweighted by a stare
Midnight feeling
Overwhelming
Plane ahead