Thursday, October 20, 2005

Splitzville

It was a drag, man,
A fucking drag
Another failed Grove experiment
You gotta do what you gotta do
Sell off these stupid fucking dreams, kid,
Cuz they won’t help you no how
The whiny assed poets, the real poets
all said, I don’t get it
I got drunk to help me forget
Another day, another hit
Shit
I’m getting faded
A frigid crazy bitch and a fallen down drunk
Who can’t get it up
Really didn’t want to
It was difficult to view you as
sexually exciting
Now, really, which one believed this more?
Visited an old man beat from the weary trade
Black phlegm crawling and seeping
Out of the trailer chimney
He showed me I really didn’t know
what filth was
To explore disgustingism was
more dangerous than rock and roll
That my songs are just sad
It’s true, fucking pissed at the world,
What’s been done, and what’s not been done
Of the winos, and the junkies
and the day time hustlers
Pimps, in feather hats only around on Friday,
But his ladies look for shards of dignity
every broken glass night
Of people who just gave up
when they were told to
They just mastered it the wrong way, right?
Of the homeless and the ex-cons
Wandering the streets
Where bare feet in the snow is the
only warmth they get ‘round here
The Party Train
They laughed and jeered and guess who the clown was?
Alone, in the cold, he went a little too far
Just following orders, ma’am
I am the leader of the leaping lemurs!
You’ve been good to me
You really have
Been fucking swell
The self was lost in the contemplation of faith
And still more, what of distrust?
But the self was found in the revelry of sin
Sad folks, here was the message
found in the gutter:
Some work too hard, some work too little
But there was no just right with this suffering
Did you know, it really hurts?
I don’t know what I miss
But it really fucking hurts
Life was sacred
Staring, staring into that vacuous void
Robbed us of our sight,
We stared at the sun too long
He said we tell the same tale over and over again
But some say he polished his stone too muck
Fell out of his hands
I’ve come to know the cold
I think of it as home
When there ain’t enough of me
To go around
I’d rather be left alone
But if I call you out of habit
I’m out of love and I’ve got to have it
Woman, give it to me
I’ll fit your need
Just like when we’d knew we’d win
Now the damage’s done
And we’re back out on the run
Funny how everything was roses
When we held on to our guns
Just because you’re winning
Don’t mean you’re the lucky one
And the spirit was broken down
He’s out of town, back on the road
A tethered paddle ball
It took five years for her to say yes
and call my bluff
But less than a year
To look down from our new fearful height
and into our weathered, changed faces.
The angel Gabrielle visited
“Shriek not so, my only love”
But what the hell else am I going to do?
Fuck!
081597

1 Comments:

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