i love you lots and you love me less. that gives you the upper hand. (congratulations)
it’s obvious what you mean by the way you sign your notes to me ‘salutations.’
but i don’t even care at all.
i’ll try to weld a reality from the shrapnel of my dreams. (yeah, i
try to keep busy)
it seems like everyone is leaving. where is everyone going?
it seems like everyone is leaving without me.
you were my crossword puzzle answer. you may not be
‘miss right’ but you were the right number of letters.
i try not to care at all.
a single step, catching out, giving in and giving up on someone or something.
i can’t help but care a lot.
can i have a couple quarters more? you see, even the boatman has raised his
prices
and i don’t want to be left on the shore. it seems like everyone is
leaving without me.
take what you will from me, i cannot mind because the sun is fading fast.
mom and dad: your baby boy ain’t so bad.
take what you will from me, i should not mind because your son is fading fast.
mom and dad: your baby boy tried his best.
here’s one for the unloved, the quiet majority.
she called on me about the weight upon her shoulders,
about her absent dead-beat father, and about the things he didn’t tell
her.
she said, “you’re such a sweet thing, and i thank you for listening.”
you see, she keeps me on a list of pseudo suitor alternates to be there at
her
beck and call to raise her fragile confidence. (and i’d be there in
five minutes)
she caught me in the rain, out collecting worms.
i said, “nobody likes me, everybody hates me.”
she said, “that’s just not true.”
and it’s one for the unloved, two for the blow, from the head to the
heart, of the
oblivious heart-breaker. she doesn’t seem to realize that the crumbs
of conversations
that she tosses out like swatting at flies keep me alive. in fact, they feed
me for weeks.
up on the corner of main and second avenue,
i’m going to find me something beautiful.
here’s one for the unloved
who allowed someone
to direct their self-esteem like an orchestra,
until all the swells and fades made you nauseous.
now i know this town can feel like the whole world, but its not. and i’m
sure there’s someone, somewhere out there, who holds the cup into which
you can be poured.
so she wrote me a thank-you card. and then i wrote her a record.
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