it's september
|
|
and she's not around.
|
|
i'm getting nothing down on paper.
|
|
i wait
|
|
for telltale signs and whispers.
|
|
but the last time that i kissed her
|
|
she didn't make a sound.
|
|
who counts the clo
|
|
uds in the sky?
|
|
who thinks of simple ways to die?
|
|
who flies too close to the sun?
|
|
only you, 'cause you knew it could be done.
|
|
so help me fight myself out of this paper bag.
|
|
i know i been left alone
|
|
if you don't come pull me through.
|
|
i always wish for something i could never have.
|
|
i need to get out of here
|
|
and fly just like you do.
|
|
i'll start it simple -
|
|
a paragraph.
|
|
just a few thoughts on who you once were.
|
|
i'll get to work on my own epitaph.
|
|
just in case you find me too late for words.
|
|
who counts the clouds in the sky . . .
|
|
-----------------
|
Paper Bag (Extended Version)
|
Two Ton Shoe |