Untitled Track: A Song There Is No Music For
A Poem
I cut my fingernails too short
to learn to play guitar
Now I’ve got a dollar bill in that rusty swear jar-
I made you as a kid, to teach you how to live
to teach you how to raise us and
to teach you to forgive-
We disregard those lessons,
why wouldn’t we
I guess?
When I’m a dumb ass child, and
You’re a fucked up mess
Now your cat is sitting next to me and
she’s purring but what’s haunting me
is that she’s the last one who’d have heard you breathe or made you laugh,
and now
I’m sitting here
Knowing you’re not coming back-
It’s up to me to be your Sun and save her with the rest of them
Because loving’s hard to give, but what I’d give to see
you fall
And to pick yourself back up before
the cloud grows ten feet tall
The end of days grows near and still, the birds
they keep on chirping-
For they know that in the end, is the evening
is the morning
I cut my thumbnail too short, to learn
to strum guitar
Now I’ve stuffed my last two cents in a dusty
love-filled jar
Whose wealth may be meaningless-
but I made it as a kid
a gift I’d hoped to give
to teach you how to love me and
to teach me to forgive
I recall the lessons, how couldn’t I
at that?
When I am my own Mother, and
I am my own Dad.
