Hungy
Funny how just one typo
Brings you crashing back to me
Though my apologies never could
Or would, as you never did.
And really, you never should have,
So congratulations on doing your best
Unfortunate, you never let me
Hate you like I'd dearly love to
But you just couldn't toss me over
You had to lower me so gently from that bridge
So I could see your eyes, growing ever smaller
Until I was submerged in the rapids
And I was spat up on the nearest edge
Curled up, shivering, squinting to see you,
But you were on the other wise
And the distortion of the air
From the heat on the bridge
Made you a mirage in my eyes
So I piked up and ran from the charred wood
That could not carry me back to you
So blindly, I would stumble oh so many times
Sustaining wounds you would never even know to heal
All the circles I ran brought me back round to the edge
So close I would have succumbed to the water once again
But where I fell asleep in the rocks and the mud on the banks
I awoke in the arms of my salvation,
In the sunset where the story should end
(But should is such a useless, dirty little word)
And as the night deepens, I'm aroused from this dream
With the heat on my face as if still from the bridges flames
But the only fire I can see, hard though I may try
Is the memory of your eyes
Don't burn me down
I am happy now, I swear
Don't burn me down
I wanna live to have the chance to mean that I don't care
But you may already have the best of me
So for the sake of the keeper of what remains
Don't burn me down
(Forget your endearing words
Forget your enduring words
Forget the gentility and moments
Surrendering to serenity)
Don't burn me down
Saturday, September 29, 2007
13:52 Central
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
So the other day we were talking, sitting in the living room as a husband and a wife should, in harmoniously separate tandem, and if only I could remember the topic of conversation, surely I would relate it here, and it is as if a tiny blue bird's egg has been in his hand all along and he hands it out to me, and he says, "I know you have one, too, I wouldn't believe you for a minute if you said you don't." And then it grew hot, grew red, began smoldering, and tore into my retinas and burrowed into my brain. But of course, he was right, and its twin was alight, and the pain in my chest where it was hidden as if in a paper bag (you can pretend it is hidden, but everybody knows what is inside) crippled me so that I may never be the same again.
Why is it that what brings us together must scrape away inside? What made a silly boy and a wild shrew compatible, accessible, must break them so, and still? Why must it be both necessary and lingering?
(Look to Barbara Kingsolver for the egg, but do not worry, do not look so deep.)
These secrets that we never really keep, oh damn, if only they would mend.
Brings you crashing back to me
Though my apologies never could
Or would, as you never did.
And really, you never should have,
So congratulations on doing your best
Unfortunate, you never let me
Hate you like I'd dearly love to
But you just couldn't toss me over
You had to lower me so gently from that bridge
So I could see your eyes, growing ever smaller
Until I was submerged in the rapids
And I was spat up on the nearest edge
Curled up, shivering, squinting to see you,
But you were on the other wise
And the distortion of the air
From the heat on the bridge
Made you a mirage in my eyes
So I piked up and ran from the charred wood
That could not carry me back to you
So blindly, I would stumble oh so many times
Sustaining wounds you would never even know to heal
All the circles I ran brought me back round to the edge
So close I would have succumbed to the water once again
But where I fell asleep in the rocks and the mud on the banks
I awoke in the arms of my salvation,
In the sunset where the story should end
(But should is such a useless, dirty little word)
And as the night deepens, I'm aroused from this dream
With the heat on my face as if still from the bridges flames
But the only fire I can see, hard though I may try
Is the memory of your eyes
Don't burn me down
I am happy now, I swear
Don't burn me down
I wanna live to have the chance to mean that I don't care
But you may already have the best of me
So for the sake of the keeper of what remains
Don't burn me down
(Forget your endearing words
Forget your enduring words
Forget the gentility and moments
Surrendering to serenity)
Don't burn me down
Saturday, September 29, 2007
13:52 Central
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
So the other day we were talking, sitting in the living room as a husband and a wife should, in harmoniously separate tandem, and if only I could remember the topic of conversation, surely I would relate it here, and it is as if a tiny blue bird's egg has been in his hand all along and he hands it out to me, and he says, "I know you have one, too, I wouldn't believe you for a minute if you said you don't." And then it grew hot, grew red, began smoldering, and tore into my retinas and burrowed into my brain. But of course, he was right, and its twin was alight, and the pain in my chest where it was hidden as if in a paper bag (you can pretend it is hidden, but everybody knows what is inside) crippled me so that I may never be the same again.
Why is it that what brings us together must scrape away inside? What made a silly boy and a wild shrew compatible, accessible, must break them so, and still? Why must it be both necessary and lingering?
(Look to Barbara Kingsolver for the egg, but do not worry, do not look so deep.)
These secrets that we never really keep, oh damn, if only they would mend.