Tuesday, October 25, 2005

When I strip you of your function, your sleeping beauty unfolds...

This town I built
is burning down around me

This fortress forged in steel
Was mostly made of courage
Tiny guns a blazing
the bombs we built exploding
the tiny world we’re holding
With fear instilled and still I feel
The wounds of bloody Sunday

Our old dirt road is long
The trees the tracks we used to run to
The getaway, our great escape
We always took the long way
We found ourselves on Sunday
By Wednesday I forget
It’s easy til it’s Sunday

The heart I drew is shreaking across and then fading on the chalkboard
The star we blue is fading with the daylight on these old jeans

I wear this bright red shirt
You gave me on my birthday
So you won’t see I'm bleeding
You know you are my Sunday
I drink you on Monday
On Tuesday you visit
On Wednesday I wake
And starve until it’s Sunday

This story book
is drowning in the drama

I picked up that my pen
You put on a show
on all of life's stages
with red caped stories
the passion was contagious
our thoughts were dams busting wide
the river of consciousness now floods
we can finally swim to work if we go at all
in the bowels of our city we finally embrace

Dr. Jones where are you now

You told us her hair was flowing gently
Her eyes were heavy and yours were soggy burning
500 yard dance w/ at least 10 between you
she never existed yet she was there
she was the spirit inside you showing itself to us
the gap between the words
the silence between the sounds
the space that is this room
you’ve turned me upside down
red is good but heavy is better


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