Why do you have to be such a spastic nerve-bag all the time?
I have this box of scars
stored it away today, once and for allmaybe
cardboard coarsely casing these cluttered memories
sealed by a blackened seraphims kiss
marked in pasty, bloody lipstick
I never feel the same way everybody feels
and today is no exception to the rule that rules me
I dont like being so close to someone I cant get to
and if I stood up on my roof, I could just maybe, baby
see you staring out your window, peering out from those eyes
Upward into the graying sky
(i am) agoraphobic in this coldnesssilent, wistful and demented
newborn misologist, still hating the mind youre framed in
so state your case for escape
the board will have it any way they please
the suit, the tie, the hardwood table, the fluorescent light that binds
and they will tease you, question and answer style
them: where have you been all this time?
you: running for miles, turning their smiles into guileful grins
them: what do you have to say for yourself?
you: I say nothing that others have not whispered before
them: and the clock on the wall
you: is the iron face in the sky
them: can you stay?
you: I must go
them: will you survive?
you: if it so pleases the board, I would rather not know
so when I became a monster, I put away humanly things
and choked down my reason until my throat was cut and sore
all my thoughts, like shards of glass
of all my thoughts, this is my last
I coughed up the blood of logic and splattered its guts on your face
Do you taste it? Do you believe in a thing called revenge? I dont
I change, every dayslip away from the cracking, chipping tiles we laid
The barren bathroomI see it now
.youre moving away
And each moment I am thinking less of the we we never came to be
Theres no one here to pick up where I leave off
When the clock strikes closing time, and I sling the satchel over my shoulder
Leather straps constraining my memory lapses
when Im gone, its gone
the traveling side-show, the mystical creature meandering across highways
drifting sideways in a potent liquid haze
but maybe it just happens until its right
happens and happens and happens like day turns to night
and in the last bursting flood of sunlight, when the shadows creep
and the colors are bluish-gray
all contemplative wanderlust and cold, certain attachment to this place
I turn to the sky and scream
I am not quite gone!
I have this box of scars
stored it away today, once and for allmaybe
cardboard coarsely casing these cluttered memories
sealed by a blackened seraphims kiss
marked in pasty, bloody lipstick
I never feel the same way everybody feels
and today is no exception to the rule that rules me
I dont like being so close to someone I cant get to
and if I stood up on my roof, I could just maybe, baby
see you staring out your window, peering out from those eyes
Upward into the graying sky
(i am) agoraphobic in this coldnesssilent, wistful and demented
newborn misologist, still hating the mind youre framed in
so state your case for escape
the board will have it any way they please
the suit, the tie, the hardwood table, the fluorescent light that binds
and they will tease you, question and answer style
them: where have you been all this time?
you: running for miles, turning their smiles into guileful grins
them: what do you have to say for yourself?
you: I say nothing that others have not whispered before
them: and the clock on the wall
you: is the iron face in the sky
them: can you stay?
you: I must go
them: will you survive?
you: if it so pleases the board, I would rather not know
so when I became a monster, I put away humanly things
and choked down my reason until my throat was cut and sore
all my thoughts, like shards of glass
of all my thoughts, this is my last
I coughed up the blood of logic and splattered its guts on your face
Do you taste it? Do you believe in a thing called revenge? I dont
I change, every dayslip away from the cracking, chipping tiles we laid
The barren bathroomI see it now
.youre moving away
And each moment I am thinking less of the we we never came to be
Theres no one here to pick up where I leave off
When the clock strikes closing time, and I sling the satchel over my shoulder
Leather straps constraining my memory lapses
when Im gone, its gone
the traveling side-show, the mystical creature meandering across highways
drifting sideways in a potent liquid haze
but maybe it just happens until its right
happens and happens and happens like day turns to night
and in the last bursting flood of sunlight, when the shadows creep
and the colors are bluish-gray
all contemplative wanderlust and cold, certain attachment to this place
I turn to the sky and scream
I am not quite gone!
VIEW 3 of 3 COMMENTS
mathclubfabulous:
because of people like you, mike... because of people like you.
finch:
yeah, except it was more like one, two, three, four, five, sixe, seven, eight, nine...wait...i drank what?