Not (Live at The Bunker Studio)

It's not the energy reeling nor the lines in your face

Nor the clouds on the ceiling, nor the clouds in space

Not this phone on the table nor the bed in the earth

Nor the bed in the stable, nor your stable words

Not this formless being nor the cry in the air

Nor the girl I'm seeing with her long, black hair

Not the open weaving nor the furnace glow

Nor the blood of you bleeding as you try to let go

It's not the room, not beginning

Not the crowd, not winning

Not the planet, not spinning

Not a ruse, not heat

Not the fire lapping up the creek

Not food, not to eat

Not the meat of your thigh nor your spine tattoo

Nor your shimmery eye, nor the wet of the dew

It's not the warm illusion nor the crack in the plate

Nor the breath of confusion, nor the starkness of slate

It's not the room, not beginning

Not the crowd, not winning

Not the planet, not spinning

Not a ruse, not heat

Not the fire lapping up the creek

Not food, not to eat

Not what you really wanted nor the mess in your purse

Nor the bed that is haunted with a blanket of thirst

Not the hunger revealing nor the ricochet in the cave

Nor the hand that is healing, nor the nameless grave

It's not the room, not beginning

Not the crowd, not winning

Not the planet, not spinning

Not a ruse, not heat

Not the fire lapping up the creek

Not food, not to eat

Not to die, not dying

Not to laugh, not lying

Not the vacant wilderness vying

Not the room, not beginning

Not the crowd, not winning

Not the planet, not spinning