August 26, 2005

• the shins, “caring is creepy”
  
  
  
  I think I’ll go home and mull this over
  
  
  Before I cram it down my throat
  
  
  At long last it’s crashed, this colossal mass
  
  
  Has broken up into bits in my room.
  

  
  
  
  Lift the mattress off the floor
  
  
  Walk the cramps off
  
  
  Go meander in the cold
  
  
  Hail to your dark skin
  
  
  Hiding the fact you’re dead again
  
  
  Underneath the power lines seeking shade
  
  
  Far above our heads are the icy heights that contain all reason
  

  
  
  
  It’s a luscious mix of words and tricks
  
  
  That let us bet when you know we should fold
  
  
  On rocks I dreamt of where we’d stepped
  
  
  And all the whole mess of roads we’re now on.
  

  
  
  
  Hold your glass up, hold it in
  
  
  Never betray the way you’ve always known it is.
  
  
  One day I’ll be wondering how
  
  
  I got so old just wondering how
  
  
  I never got cold wearing nothing in the snow.
  

  
  
  
  This is way beyond my remote concern
  
  
  Of being condescending
  

  
  
  
  All these squawking birds won’t quit.
  
  
  Building nothing, laying bricks.
  
  
  

  • 12:06 am
  • 1 Comment