Saturday, October 22


I am not the type of dog
That could keep you waiting
For no good reason
Run a carbon black test on my jaw
And you will find
It’s all been said before
I can swing my megaphone
And long arm the rest
It's easier and better
To just beat it from the chest
Of desire
I could walk into this room
And the waves of conversation
Are enough to knock you down
In the undertow
I’m so alone
So alone in my life
Feed me banks of light
And hang your hairshirt
On the lowest rung
It's a beautiful life
And I can hang my hairshirt
Away up high in the attic
Of the wrong dog's life chest
Or bury it at sea
All my life
I've searched for this
Here I am
Here I am in your life
It's a beautiful life
My life
It's a beautiful life
Your life.

(m. stipe)

No comments:

Archived Posts

Search The Meta-Plane