The ceiling melted into tangerine rain

While my shadow chewed electric sugarcane

I heard the television hum in my veins

Saying, “Every little creature translates pain”

And I was barefoot in a grocery-store dream

Floating downstream on a laser tambourine

When a frog with opal eyes and nicotine skin

Asked me softly,

“Do you ever let anybody in?”

Can a frog send love

Across the radioactive mud?

Can a heartbeat swim upstream

Through the syrup of a dream?

I’ve been licking neon stars

From the dashboard of abandoned cars

Trying to decode the sky above

Can a frog send love?

The moon wore a jacket made of static and pearls

The jukebox coughed up invisible girls

My memories spiraled like peppermint smoke

And every punchline felt like a cosmic joke

I found my old reflection asleep in a jar

Breathing through gills beside a dying guitar

It said,

“Your soul is just a motel for sound

You keep moving rooms

But the ghosts hang around.”

Can a frog send love

Through the gasoline flood?

Can a whisper survive

When the clocks come alive?

I’ve been digging through the dark

With a cathedral in my spark

Trying to teach my blood to rise above

Can a frog send love?

Ribbit-ribbit revelation

Swimming through a bad vibration

Liquid halos, engine choirs

Mothers made of telephone wires

I dissolved into the wallpaper bloom

Watched the universe hatch in a motel room

Every atom sang in emerald tongues

And the frog just laughed

Like a thousand tiny suns

Can a frog send love?

I think he already does

In the puddles after storms

In the way the silence warms

In the ache behind my grin

In the galaxies beneath my skin

Maybe every living thing is dreaming of

How to send love

How to send love

How to send love.