(no subject)

[cubarican]

poison oak, some boyhood bravery
when the telephone was a tin can on a string
and I fell asleep with you still talking to me
you said you were afraid to die

in polaroids you were dressed in women's clothes
were you made ashamed, why'd you lock them in a drawer?
well, I don't think that I ever loved you more
then when you turned away
when you slammed the door
when you stole the car
and drove towards mexico
and you wrote bad checks
just to fill your arms
I was young enough
I still believed in more

well, let the poets cry themselves to sleep
and all their tearful words would turn back into steam

but me, I'm a single cell on a serpent's tongue
there's a muddy field where a garden was
I'm glad you got away but I'm still stuck right here
my clothes are soaking wet from your brother's tears

and never thought this live was possible
your the yellow bird that I've been waiting for

the end of paralysis, I was a statuet
now I'm drunk as hell at a piano bench
and when I press the keys it all gets reversed
the sound of loneliness makes me happier