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strike three

you don't get four strikes?
who made that rule?
they guy with the bit of drool
running down his chin?

the towers are turning
the ties are burning
the seas are churning
and a rock is tossed into the water

my sister pulled me aside
then cheated as i rolled
over and entered a private hell
and lie in a sagging farewell
waiting for hell to pay
and my brother to say
that it was all a bad dream

keep it down in there
too much noise how can i
sleep you accident that ruined
my nice little solo gig

gray skies and brown leaves
tennis shoes and short sleeves
means i'm not going to stay
not really up for a passion play

pulling the love out after
the year of tears and laughter
alone it seems rubbing my eyes
unable to hide despite my disguise

doctor can you see my fire
the wind that doesn't require
the earth to hold for so long
going down left is oh so wrong

strike three writing back
sorry son but mostly you never hear
destined to wander not able to steer
no response station we're out
strike three writing black

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This page contains a single entry from the blog posted on January 11, 2007 10:59 PM.

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