(no subject)
Sometimes you don't get it.
The whizzes, the bangs,
the way the bourbon sits in your belly
and the cigarette smoke sits
in the stale air of this apartment.
Sometimes you can't piece it together:
who's talking to you about what or
why conversations are buzzing and fading
like a drowning AM Radio.
You can't understand why your shadow
just sits there, quiet
as the dying light.
The walls are fizzing and humming,
the people might as well
be shouting -- the whole world of it,
loud as an empty basketball court.
Sometimes it seems so absurd,
all of it.
And then sometimes --
sometimes you're so sad
it all just makes perfect sense.
The whizzes, the bangs,
the way the bourbon sits in your belly
and the cigarette smoke sits
in the stale air of this apartment.
Sometimes you can't piece it together:
who's talking to you about what or
why conversations are buzzing and fading
like a drowning AM Radio.
You can't understand why your shadow
just sits there, quiet
as the dying light.
The walls are fizzing and humming,
the people might as well
be shouting -- the whole world of it,
loud as an empty basketball court.
Sometimes it seems so absurd,
all of it.
And then sometimes --
sometimes you're so sad
it all just makes perfect sense.