I come to you as the last, you as the first, wearing paper shirts growing another arm of debt, those starting up years, love till it hurts
I never thanked you proper for all you pushed within, your music, words by me our steps finding the Mississippi, Florida islands when you could walk safely
A different Chinese fast food, a toy or trinket when credit cards were young the surprise of bringing me home a bag of Beach Boys tapes, you were strong and independent, co-dependency is your hang-up, but I need to be your moves The displayed passions going memorable while the future of now makes you choose
Giving up dreams one death at a time, hoping in Frankenstein, seeing a time when you recapture all you've set apart, all I've taken up with my rhymes How does a false god forgive when the ticket has half its man?
Making up with my mind, waking up in my mind is half courage, all the plan, the only good worth doing is realizing mistakes gone missing, don't eat, don't phone there's money in the loving, they list it out, but it must go. Come home.
Selling all the things once making up for you, living collections that stacked and sought to give meaning to definitions that you keep with you, everything I'm not I bought and you carried, still carrying, going over, going down, up the hill to gainful deployment
The fires in the fights are for one reason versus a solid field of no enjoyment; and the age comes aware with every number rolling over, the theatre is gone, the elements of having the creative spark, the power's cut, you're in the dark, and on and on...
For fear or food, letting me have my way, if you have to clear the ground yourself, what else do I do, but enjoy the music years old, the videos we love, there's nothing else but old money we never get to, the interest taking all kind offers, deeper and holed out in that last diminutive situation, faking our way through time, me in the lead without a direction to my name, my aim can't grope a common north, a time to bail south, living from middle-class rise to political cold showers and shoulders to hand to mouth to feed from the coffin so the trip won't waste that much crime to the breaking of back to the lead of just one more summer through to the students you teach to the tax that won't come back. What do I do without you; while you're here?. Cold to touch, fingers going a little more each year, leaning on my youth, I should be the one but,
I don't know how to suffer. I bend at the knees, that's all. You instruct in the art of raw meat beneath the hammer, the strings: not touching god, nor the player's part
50 coming for blood, blood going for air, you bake and bread and curse what comes and construe what the others want, a record of you picking up distant voices, it runs for a full side, but no one has the want to turn over, and over, but the answers are fresh, they just don't answer. A mocking bird stalking prayers that just ask the breaks, and yet break you in multi-form, making me love you while ununafraid to care past my own pity
The things I sell, the best I can do, I could do better for you, I want to, I want you to hit me or go past the indignities you've suffered at my part of you, I didn't deserve it then, but for a while. We knew what we weren't doing, trying to smooth the rides, drives, and again, we'd do it again. Slowing for moderation. Skimming with a steady black eye, a home.
A viciousness coming apart to do the right thing, thinking with the day ahead, alone.
The wishes snow the wilding hide-out, give pleasure for a time away, a saying we've not used for years, but close to the 6 feet of dreams, ready yet for some playing
Picturing sunsets without a 50 hour week, a keeping of glasses in the right sight when prescriptions fall to financial possibles, giving probables the night off, the delight in not breaking you back to nature for the standard worthless need, taking you out through afternoons, just for the choice to breath
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Last Updated: July 10, 1996