I'm here on Earth today-- walking in the sun, done up like a man in cotton and leather and a hat. The bright leaves idle in the air and my feet feel warm in their little cocoons. I'm in a town called Obvious by the people who live there-- they built it themselves, in glass and concrete. All day I looked at coloured things their dead men made, in a large and quiet place. It's in a time called spring, when things go warm... They brush against me in the crowds-- men and women, and my skin feels strange. The sun will go around behind soon, and their air feels cool. There's a van Gogh in the sky, electric waves in my odd heart, and I won't be home tonight.