we were able-minded once
|
but guilt doesn't open doors
|
so we toss our fits of charm
|
and I muscle my way into a desperate situation
|
too many times to count
|
|
and some day we will gather up
|
for an hour or two and shake our hands
|
until then, I resign my post
|
as a daydream you can't hide
|
but at least I cut myself off from
|
the words left on the table for all to see
|
|
this is where I left the group
|
there were trees without a whisper
|
and the sound was deafening
|
this is how I spend my time
|
with a book and no disasters
|
and we fail each time we meet
|
|
and some day when the pen decides
|
that we're old enough
|
I hope you ask again
|
and how far is pretty far?
|
well it's pretty far
|
too far for you
|
|
but at least I'm half-way healthy
|
though I'm still spineless as a scenester
|
at least I've got some friends
|
who prop me up at night for dinner
|
|
at least I found the love scene
|
in the film about my parents
|
they cradle their discussions
|
like they're afraid to drop their children
|
|
at least my eyes were closed
|
when you said this world is just too spacious
|
at least I lost a love
|
when I was barely out of context
|
|
at least I saved your seat once
|
until you threw up all your homework
|
the best part wasn't ruined
|
I just held onto it for safety
|
|
at least my dreams aren't wrapped up
|
in that pension you've been saving
|
at least I pray at night
|
to something other than the ceiling
|
|
oh oh oh
|
|
-----------------
|
A Book And No Disasters
|
Some By Sea |