Poem
Who are We running from?
(Monocle/Head)
In every home, the city's distress
In every town, we lay them to rest
The places filled with agony, with
inverted words and chamomile.
And I want to slide through time
like thick molassas
amidst a cold January morning
To wear a pair of dark sunglasses
in a snow storm.
A swarm of bees bites the pitch,
I rest my arm on the pirch, dare
I wish, dare I wish for a new ending?
While I have no control over myself
He has total control over my health
Lifeless laying in a pool of sinew, I
dream of you.
"Who are We running from?"
Nobody calls when you're all alone,
nobody calls a disconnected
Telephone.
The salmon of skylark of the bear
of the man sleeps alone, sleeps
at night. Our lives, a flip book with
three-fourths of the pages stenciled
in. Flip, flip,flip.flip,blank,flip,flip...
Cursed lips and charted trips
Broken hips and bleeding
And then it all comes together, it
all fills the pages with green fish
ink. Then I think, I sit, I wonder
what the answer could be. This
place filled with agony, with inverted
words and chamomile.You know
exactally how I feel. I rented my mind
for $4.99, they dine on my cortex,
so come on, just the simpliest
walk on the cardboard boardwalk
bores the simpletons.
It's true, look at me, you'll see a face
displaced in this place in a place far
away. It's a place you don't want to be.
(Monocle/Head)
In every home, the city's distress
In every town, we lay them to rest
The places filled with agony, with
inverted words and chamomile.
And I want to slide through time
like thick molassas
amidst a cold January morning
To wear a pair of dark sunglasses
in a snow storm.
A swarm of bees bites the pitch,
I rest my arm on the pirch, dare
I wish, dare I wish for a new ending?
While I have no control over myself
He has total control over my health
Lifeless laying in a pool of sinew, I
dream of you.
"Who are We running from?"
Nobody calls when you're all alone,
nobody calls a disconnected
Telephone.
The salmon of skylark of the bear
of the man sleeps alone, sleeps
at night. Our lives, a flip book with
three-fourths of the pages stenciled
in. Flip, flip,flip.flip,blank,flip,flip...
Cursed lips and charted trips
Broken hips and bleeding
And then it all comes together, it
all fills the pages with green fish
ink. Then I think, I sit, I wonder
what the answer could be. This
place filled with agony, with inverted
words and chamomile.You know
exactally how I feel. I rented my mind
for $4.99, they dine on my cortex,
so come on, just the simpliest
walk on the cardboard boardwalk
bores the simpletons.
It's true, look at me, you'll see a face
displaced in this place in a place far
away. It's a place you don't want to be.