Somethin’ For The Kids Astronautalis

Me and Fat Joe were riding in the back
Of an industrial-strength delivery van
I couldn't catch a clear view of the driver's face
But I could tell it wasn't a feminine friend

The ground plans for battle were all laid
We were just taking some time to kick it, eat grapes and parlay
It was just him and me in a van with the gate to gay
We taste the grapes and spit the seeds in the street

The highway was a scalpel splicing the sands
An impressive impression of man's demand for the connection of lands
I look back at Joe and laugh
I give the grapes a puff and a pass spitting another seed out of the back

Joe squints his eyes
Lets out a sound that can only be described as a laughter and sigh, combined
His pale olive fingers pry another one of the fruits off the vine
"We should return here in ten years time." I ask him why

"So we can drink the wine from the orchard that is grown from the seeds we alone cast aside."
As the sun sunk lower on the sand, dust sprayed from the tires
The wind picked up the grains displayed them in spirals
And I held the last grape up to eclipse the sun
The breeze plucked it from my fingers and the lunch was done