A dove is a glove
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That I wear in my heart
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And though I like to dress smart
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It doesn¡¯t have any part of the world of fashion
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And you¡¯re there to put me down
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And I¡¯m sick off the frowns that follow me around
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I would like the sky but there¡¯s no reason why
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She¡¯d say to this world with the nose of a girl
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Turned up so loud that it rings, sings the cloud
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I've never been here and though you're physically near
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You're pushing me away to decay like the day that I loved
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It is as real as the girl, blabbing nothing outside my window
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What do I have to show
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To a world that the only way to destroy
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Is to die like a baby boy
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I could be happy in infinity
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Of the space of my eyelid
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But I know I¡¯m somewhere else
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Where the words on this page
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Are better than the scribling nonsense they are,
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And it would be real,
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And I eat my last meal
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Wish that I could feel
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But now I don¡¯t even know if I¡¯m real
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Untitled #3
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| John Frusciante |
