I Am Drumstein - Rheostatics

I’ll push them around, black dots on a page. Relay that together

Impossible tools, taught badly at school. The children would stay

Was a humpbacked whale, was a leopard with spots. I knew I was rare

In Popopolis, wingophone zubicus drums

I am Drumstein

Scenes of music, lush. Waxing words over belt lines

Two hands on ten strings, three pigeons who sing. We stand here together

By wing or by fin, this melody’s skin. The rhythmatic weather

Crane, lily, and witch. Brain man in the fridge. Yes, everything is real

Cue the violins. Brings the cellos in. Pianos twirl for all the boys and girls.

Hear the choir sing. Listen to the church bells chime. That guitar is drunk.

The tympanies enraged. Wingaphones, we’ll play them together. Zubicus,

Albanian zither. Dot and Bug just stand there and listen. Drumstein providing,

you’re on God’s mission