I write with your gold blue pen
Listening to Elliott Smith in your car;
It’s pouring buckets of sorrow
That wasn’t even here to begin with.
We’re trespassers.
The suits are in, in their shiny vehicles
Glowing, floating on our so-called freedom,
Giving us the stink eye
Like we’re nothing but a lower brand.
I’m only here to keep you company,
I didn’t expect to see the sea
Falling from the sky.
Please, hold this shivering hand,
Put it to rest along
With all my belongings.
I saw a shadow of a shadow
Across the rearview mirror of a grey Mercedes-Benz
He didn’t get lost on the way here,
He wouldn’t dare.
But I insist and annoy,
Pulling your freezer out in the open
Making you wild with nerve,
Bringing you back with love.
