7th Ave's gratitude
makes us coming around I took the new pink faux fur coat to
7th Ave as rain would come
boozed up Bobby walked the dog at
Fell and Oaks Jill searched the trash I took the brown suede jacket offered
despite dry heat at 10 a.m.
up Junipero cars all faded
clouds showed at Andreas Lake 7th Ave's gratitude
makes us coming around back home your words sound clear and certain
Frisco's grey but we share light
lease tell all friends abroad in Europe
you saw my pink, I took the brown we share a common wonder story
at 7th Ave or where friends meet
not gotten worse, but lots got better
since we gave up to claim and yearn 7th Ave's gratitude
makes us coming around I used to be like this
we love to learn like that 7th Ave's gratitude
makes all us coming around | the light leaks through the paper blinds
your shape still lingers in my mind
the floerboards creak like something near
but all I feel is absence here your glass is standing by the sink
half full of fair, too tired to think
I speak your name, it disappears
like smoke that fades with passing years would more words have saved us from silence
or did silence protect us from words the trees would bend to hear us speak
our bones would hum, our bodies weak I walk through rooms that hold your trace
each corner wears your silent face
no songs, no sound, just quiet walls
and footsteps that the dark recalls the bed is cold, the sheets are still
the night is sharp, it cuts at will
I lie awake and count the seams
of all our stitched and broken dreams would more words have saved us from silence
or did silence protect us from our words | Monday you say I was born a slack master
then Tuesday you say stop getting faster
Wednesday I should work even longer
Thursday I should rest to be stronger Monday you pay and the sluts name you rotter
Tuesday you pray that your wife will take the daughter
Wednesday you sway the dust gives you fire
Thursday betrayals – rivals come for your hire will I reject all your bad money?
will I reject all your bad money? on Friday you say, new funds tell our story
next day you prey me at home, full of roary
Sunday you throw bills to say sorry
each day you're just bound for your own glory will I reject all your bad money?
will I reject all your bad money? I will reject all your bad money
I will reject all your bad money |
