It’s a new three-ring show each day where I take off and fly for free.
It’s a corn maze without a map to get to High Society.
It’s a new craze riddle in a rap that gives me my anx-I-ety.
It’s amazing in this trap that I maintain sobriety.
It’s always terrible and true and its also always true that
It’s gone when I close my eyes and I wake up okay as me.
Standing seagull sentries survey from the street-lamps, and no amount of space or style or grace can lessen these cramps.
I found out everything was wrong, even though it’s all my way: all I got’s this lousy song, when my friends went to Bombay.
The audit is tomorrow and tomorrow and always. Enrollment rolls in sorrow and borrowing my own pay. I just knew I was this way.
The kids are home. I’m here alone. She shines unknown. I gnaw the bone, but hold the phone: I hear the charge and I atone.
It’s a new three-ring show each day where I take off and fly for free.
It’s a corn maze without a map to get to High Society.
It’s a new craze riddle in a rap that gives me my anx-I-ety.
It’s amazing in this trap that I maintain sobriety.
It’s always terrible and true and its also always true that
It’s gone when I close my eyes and I wake up okay as me.
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Photo credit: Ordale, courtesy of CopyrightFreePhotos
Remember the solace of the morning’s hail, well-met? I’m over shaking, but I’ve not stopped smiling yet: undeserved? You bet.
We forgot the appointment in the heat and in the rush. It’d be paid for if we’d taken two and given the bird to Bush (a push).
So we pick and choose which need to lose – with clean, white shirts and hidden hurts, we’ll park on fumes ’til Thursday.
It started well, but what-the-hell? Let’s eat and drink, and Mary, if you’re only part contrary, pray for me this Worst-day.
It’s a new three-ring show each day where I take off and fly for free.
It’s a corn maze without a map to get to High Society.
It’s a new craze riddle in a rap that gives me my anx-I-ety.
It’s amazing in this trap that I maintain sobriety.
It’s always terrible and true and its also always true that
It’s gone when I close my eyes and I wake up okay as me.
It’s something that I wonder: what were those birds watching for?
I know they’re scavengers and dirty birds and souls in love that soar.
If they’re also angels watching, perhaps they’d end this little war.
It’s always terrible and true and its also always true that
It’s gone when I close my eyes and I wake up okay as me.
