Thursday, March 8, 2012


Singing songs about the line
is what we did
those nights in the basement
or in the kitchen
or up on stage
never saw much success
a few high points along the way
like a road sign
shot full of holes
or dents from rocks and BBs
many a night on that highway
bugs on the windshield
snow on the road
or in our eyes
the burden of those memories
always stays with me
Writing songs about beer
no fear of the future
for a while
it faded like the daylight
and it did
Old cars
and one room apartments
led to nowhere
time not well wasted
after a while
it got a little old
you found yourself lost in the aisles
again
or in a hole, so I've been told
hanging round the neighbourhood
Trying to look good
there were a lot of signs
but I wasn't listening
I wasn't looking
I was mis-tooken
and faking it
demonstrating it
the cat was out of the bag by then
Like partners on parole
checking in enough to check out
without detection
Our dictations
went far into the night, at times
a dead reckoning for sure
or at least a story
from those years
may we live in ironic times
and those of us here, do
you wouldn't believe how much has changed
and how much has stayed the same
what shall we do
when it comes time to lay our cards on the table?
when the dreams become the living?






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