Tuesday, April 3, 2012

Granite, Concrete, Dirt, or Cobblestone

Pardon me, I'm disillusioned
Why must I be so insecure
Flapping wildly in the wind
A fast food flag flying at half mast

In this old used car, I once again return
Tank on empty, past these granite hillsides
To the home that's no more a home
Than the empty shells along the shore

Pardon me, I'm mass-produced
Clawing for my destiny in puddles of free-will
Riding bikes on crooked, cracking sidewalks
To the park between the marshland and the sea

In this new state-of-mind, I return once again
Heart so heavy, each step a long cliche
To the commonwealth that's no more mine
Than the basement that I leave behind

I went to the stair against my will
And climbed up to the church on the hill
Climbed the hill to the graveyard and felt the tree beside
But if I climb up its old trunk, I'll have nowhere left to hide

Life is a big old joke, just maybe
That's either on me or with me, I don't know
Please don't let me take it seriously
Granite, concrete, dirt, or cobblestone


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Songwriter, Poet, Heretic