Sunday, August 16, 2009
Kinda Sorta Fickle
"Kinda Sorta Fickle"
I'm nothing but a memory moving from place to space.
Hidden as that lost cruching defeat. Fool yourself no longer. Cast no further stones. My city, your world. These crazy floors. My limited contractions. I'm not ashamed of these. They mean far too much to me. Taught a lesson in personal grace. Sit still. Now face the other way. Put your feet down. Hands to yourself. Wipe your dry, dirty mouth. Hooks in you, out from me. What we deserve lingers. It defines who we are as artists. Waiting for your vacation to finally end from this terrible place. This awful career. It keeps your mind flooded with sounds just so you're always distracted.