...and counting...

12/25/2004

 
But a pauper of the snow...
from 12/25/2004

got in this morning after a long night's drive
the sun always shines and it burns in my eyes
i'm too cold to feel the shaking anymore
singing a song another guy own's the copyright to
adding my own words to make it new
the cd itself is labelled rock on the shelf
but we all know he sings the blues
who's to say who can sing
and who can carry a tune
the voices i hear tell me no one in this room
"are you awake?" i often wonder
as i lay restless counting commercials
and i ask myself between ads
will the earth shatter like a pane of glass
if i get up for a drink of water
it's hard to say but most likely not
would it matter if it did
wouldn't you just put it back together
as though it were not effected
such a long drawn train of thought
a ticket for which i've never bought
but on which i catch a ride everyday
i'll crack open a beverage
and then the front door
step into the great bleached white twilight
of a city blanketed over in snow
suddenly i can see why everyone is asleep but me
those blankets are quite comfortable
the perfect place to find peace and dream
my eyes are too tired to burn
i'm too cold to feel the shaking anymore
but not too old to learn from my mistakes
i make my bed just as i lose my sight
i freeze solid and relinquish the fight
as the frostbite sets in
my heart thaws and i'm alive again
i hear the song, my late night lullaby
coming through the window
and i contentedly die
to the day