Pouring water on your head
to wake you up
Baby's dressed in Sunday best,
you never stood a chance
Oh the message runs its course,
without a voice
And the people looking in
they never say a word
Oh lost child what have you seen?
The leaves all hit the ground
They still cling to green
Cling to green.
When the words are running
out the back door
We wonder what you're on about,
lying on the floor
Dusting angels on the tiles
once again
Painting pictures in the sky
when you haven't got a pen
Well you grow your father's ears
every day
And you share your father's fears
but in your own clear way
The guilt that's in the moment
lights you up
Shadow's crowd against the window
you didn't make the cut
Broken bones, scattered sleep
So important, too young for memories
It washes off, evermore to leave
A mark that you can keep
The angels in the deep
Sunday, April 26, 2009
I'm bad at vulnerability I like to tie off places Where mess might hide Might wander in to introduce themself Until I'm all kn...
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To slumber And not be tossed about Like an incomplete formula In the mind of a mathematician Is a good thing The solution Lies in reme...
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She shares the blame For Adam's fall So secure, attractive Brilliant in a certain view The essence of Enlightenment I see her raise her ...
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Late It's practically done, more or less Plus or minus it's my best Effort if you squint and side-eye It. I'm sure it will get b...
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