(no subject)
Might have gone too far
With the details we made
Stopped at the tracks
Where the train got derailed, you stayed
And said, "a poet should not go home with hands full of ink"
And then I asked you to come with me
Full of night time
And far too many drinks
I tried to kiss you
But you had fallen asleep
Can't tell if I stay up
Or if I stayed to think
Of the difference between promises
And the promises you keep
Mercy might come in with the morning and alarm
Stopped in the kitchen when the light was forming
And you joked, "plans only fall apart when plans are made."
And I told you you write well but you aren't Hemingway
Full of night time
And far too many drinks
I kept on talking
But you had fallen asleep
Can't tell if I stayed up
Or if I stayed to think
How the hands move when the hands move
Is still a mystery to me
How you must be
A tributary
Too small for an ocean
Too wide for a stream
I've watched you swing
In your barefeet
I saw you struggle
To lace up your shoes
So, middle child
Remember and sing along
You could be the dusk
But you could be the dawn
There are many kinds of brightness
Condescence, florescence, to name two
Yes, I have seen some kind of lightness
Inside the heaviness that's inside of you
So, middle child
How you forgot to be strong
You could be the dusk
But you could be the dawn
You could ride along
You could fall behind
Leave us in the dust
Step out of line
You could be the scene
You could be the saw
You could be the dusk
You could be the dawn
So, what did you forget about?
And what about the rain drops?
What if the clouds knew?
I said, what did you forget about?
How did it go down?
And what does it say about you?
Please believe me
There are centuries to see
In the rings of the stumps
Of the fallen down trees
Don't regret me
When you begat me
You never needed a brush
To make a beautiful thing
When our brains and bones
Are cold like Boston snow
The water we waded will freeze
And we'll be glad
We went in past our knees.
They worry our science
Will suck the beauty from the leaves
I worry about poets
That no one ever reads
It must be the pages
It must be the madness
It must be our hearts
That make it through the damage
Unclean
Our dogs must think we're gods
Building houses and carrying on
I guess that's when I thought
I guess that they're not wrong
It must be the fall down
It could be the get up
It must be our love
That puts it together
Unweaved.
I am see-through
But I'm not a ghost.
Get to know the endemic ones
Subway line sympathy
The bracelet she was told
Would break the night she met me
There are gypsies in Milan
There are hydrogen bombs
There's a big, bright sun
And there's you and me
There are notes in the songs
There are rivers that run on
There are oceans too deep
And there's you and me
Good to know the better ones
Subway line symphony
The bracelet she was told
Would break the night she met me
There are gypsies in Milan
There are hydrogen bombs
There's a big, bright sun
But the moon comes swiftly
There are notes in the songs
There are frogs in the pond
There are wounds wound deep
And there's you and me.
Some people make cracks
About the glasses leaking out
Circle stains on the pages
Make it harder to read aloud
I'm a pessimist, you're an optimist
I'm an agent of a singularity
Tied to the properties of figured out
And the parts in you that want to believe
And sing
Some people say things
They only think they mean
And stand in the waves
To remove the sand from their feet
Half full of emptiness
I stumble down the hallway
There are no cigarettes to sneak
That make it easier to breathe
I am tied to the parts in you that want to believe.
With the details we made
Stopped at the tracks
Where the train got derailed, you stayed
And said, "a poet should not go home with hands full of ink"
And then I asked you to come with me
Full of night time
And far too many drinks
I tried to kiss you
But you had fallen asleep
Can't tell if I stay up
Or if I stayed to think
Of the difference between promises
And the promises you keep
Mercy might come in with the morning and alarm
Stopped in the kitchen when the light was forming
And you joked, "plans only fall apart when plans are made."
And I told you you write well but you aren't Hemingway
Full of night time
And far too many drinks
I kept on talking
But you had fallen asleep
Can't tell if I stayed up
Or if I stayed to think
How the hands move when the hands move
Is still a mystery to me
How you must be
A tributary
Too small for an ocean
Too wide for a stream
I've watched you swing
In your barefeet
I saw you struggle
To lace up your shoes
So, middle child
Remember and sing along
You could be the dusk
But you could be the dawn
There are many kinds of brightness
Condescence, florescence, to name two
Yes, I have seen some kind of lightness
Inside the heaviness that's inside of you
So, middle child
How you forgot to be strong
You could be the dusk
But you could be the dawn
You could ride along
You could fall behind
Leave us in the dust
Step out of line
You could be the scene
You could be the saw
You could be the dusk
You could be the dawn
So, what did you forget about?
And what about the rain drops?
What if the clouds knew?
I said, what did you forget about?
How did it go down?
And what does it say about you?
Please believe me
There are centuries to see
In the rings of the stumps
Of the fallen down trees
Don't regret me
When you begat me
You never needed a brush
To make a beautiful thing
When our brains and bones
Are cold like Boston snow
The water we waded will freeze
And we'll be glad
We went in past our knees.
They worry our science
Will suck the beauty from the leaves
I worry about poets
That no one ever reads
It must be the pages
It must be the madness
It must be our hearts
That make it through the damage
Unclean
Our dogs must think we're gods
Building houses and carrying on
I guess that's when I thought
I guess that they're not wrong
It must be the fall down
It could be the get up
It must be our love
That puts it together
Unweaved.
I am see-through
But I'm not a ghost.
Get to know the endemic ones
Subway line sympathy
The bracelet she was told
Would break the night she met me
There are gypsies in Milan
There are hydrogen bombs
There's a big, bright sun
And there's you and me
There are notes in the songs
There are rivers that run on
There are oceans too deep
And there's you and me
Good to know the better ones
Subway line symphony
The bracelet she was told
Would break the night she met me
There are gypsies in Milan
There are hydrogen bombs
There's a big, bright sun
But the moon comes swiftly
There are notes in the songs
There are frogs in the pond
There are wounds wound deep
And there's you and me.
Some people make cracks
About the glasses leaking out
Circle stains on the pages
Make it harder to read aloud
I'm a pessimist, you're an optimist
I'm an agent of a singularity
Tied to the properties of figured out
And the parts in you that want to believe
And sing
Some people say things
They only think they mean
And stand in the waves
To remove the sand from their feet
Half full of emptiness
I stumble down the hallway
There are no cigarettes to sneak
That make it easier to breathe
I am tied to the parts in you that want to believe.