kamikazepilotgea

bending guitar strings, I sing

tiny Dia de Los Muertos skeletons hang from big ol' trees
and I'm way down here inside a casket covered in dirt.
You sit on my tombstone day in day out
playing a bluesy guitar melody to stir me up alive.
*I can hear those guitar strings bend*
My eyes do the roll all the way to the back of my skull
...and I don't feel like night of the living muerto any longer.
How 'bout lending me the rope that hangs around your neck, the one so thick and long?
I will climb all the way to the top to steal your hat and mimic my unruly cat.
Scratch open a deep wound from the past...
You and me picking out the old syringes from our arms telling no lies
trying to clean all the hidden leftover closet skeletons that still linger on
This city has left and is gone, no longer alive.
I dream to live off a suitcase without a monkey on my back
no more hiding
hand me your rope