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Messy Martyr and A Trail of (what do I put here?)
Contributed by
franciswolf
on
Friday, 23rd June 2006 @ 10:54:36 AM in AEST
Topic:
SongLyrics
|
My world, it passes like the contents of a blind man’s cup
There could be a mix of nickels and pennies but I wouldn’t be able to add it up
And there’s a whole lot of thinking I like to account myself of
But I haven’t learned nothing bout here, there, down or above
So I just whisper like the gypsies in the ears of those who won’t abuse
And they seem to remind me, that there is no clear path we can choose
All these things whirling about my periphery keep on lingering
But you know I just don’t understand, I just don’t understand a thing
I had a lover from New Jersey; she wanted me to keep with her
I thought that that was too much distance but I had to be sure
She knew how to dance like a ballerina girl
I tell you, I don’t know much bout love, but she gave me a whirl
Three weeks later, she left me for a lead man’s drum
I could not compete him; I’m tone deaf when it comes to a hum
But when I was around her, I swear I could hear angels sing
But you know I just don’t understand, I just don’t understand a thing
Church bells ringing, they’re cracked under weight of sin
And the people inside ride merry go round of souls back forth again
I just stay outside the line, looking in at their circus show
I want to ride the horses, but I don’t know what direction to go
And the, the lead man priest, well he’s a carnie with a heart of gold
It’s a literal mineral; he got in exchange for the blood pump sold
And the dust is floating from the church bell, high on the immaculate ceiling
But you know I just don’t understand, I just don’t understand a thing
I failed an English test; I couldn’t pull my words apart
I can articulate my speech, but writing leaves me no room to start
And oxymorons and personification could be all that I got
But my minds just like a smoker’s lungs as it begins to rot
My teacher’s give the grades to the ones who seem to raise their hand
Maybe I’m just stupid, or maybe I just don’t fit in this land
Cause the numbers add up that I’m not in the right mind of thinking
But you know I just don’t understand, I just don’t understand a thing
I see picket signs; they’re held by robots running on battery oil
See I read their messages, but I still don’t know what they’re trying to foil
They’re all in a marching line programmed to report what they hate
I’d have shown up to, but the clock was wrong and I was late
So I just watched them from the point of view from my hill
And although they claimed move, together they seemed somewhat still
And commotion from that high just sounds like a beep and a ding
But you know I just don’t understand, I just don’t understand a thing
So I go on guessing, but guessing leaves me room to scorn
I’d cry for my sanity, but I was never taught to weep or mourn
Like Judas I just turn in my coins and I nod my head
With all this, out of focus, I’d be focused on winding up dead
So I hear from people that you can’t live life like a race
But I just end up wondering if their losers in last place
And if this is a race, you know I hope I am winning
But you know I just don’t understand, I just don’t understand a thing
Copyright ©
franciswolf
... [
2006-06-23 10:54:36]
(Date/Time posted on
site)
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Re: Messy Martyr and A Trail of (what do I put here?)
(User Rating: 1 )
by freckle on
Monday, 14th July 2008 @ 11:20:00 AM AEST
(User
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a Message)
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My goodness! I am suprised that no one commented on your work. It was long (which is something I usually stay away from) but it was thought provoking and had a rhythm to it. I enjoyed the repetition of the last line in each stanza. Overall, I liked it.
Thank you for sharing it.
Carol |
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