Tuesday, December 8, 2009

Tape Me to the Back of Your Door

It's a hard way to feel when your fingers aren't real and when lips shine like horns on a devil.
And when sighing's too much and no one wants to touch what you used to be,
Lay with me.
Stand up straight, little boy
Make them wait, handsome man
Know you are here, made of skin, made of sand, made of things that were meant to work magic.
Wind is tragic sometimes, when it just blows your mind and you feel like you've got nothing left.
But don't worry. When the tornado passes
you've still got your sunglasses and everything's waiting for you.
So many big things to do.

1 comment: