jackshoegazer | When You Try to Rewind Time

I slip and I slide around this teenage cliché wasteland we find depression rehashed and refried unlike the lemon pie your auntie has tried, but I espy a laceration puckering your wrist which you hide and despise despite the pride you attach to the anguish inside, perplexing those who it hate when you cry and flail your arms all the time, when you retreat and you’re still high and tick tock, the clock is passing you by with lipstick smeared from your nose to your thigh while you’re screaming why, oh fucking why can this be that I see so much more than you will allow me to be, so I fly to the end of the room on this broom, I’m a bitch don’t you wish it’s a witch I could be, cast this spell to rescue this maiden from hell, it is me, at the top of the well, but oh well, it’s easier to cry on the corner of my pillow, than to weep in a willow instead of on the sill of the window, so cry me a river that I play on this cello in a room full of yellow-jacket bees on my knees as I scream from the roof, not my teeth but a tooth, it’s the truth which I use to excuse this cliché I’ve abused for my muse so aren’t you amused by the fellow who wished on his life only to say hello to his wife before she took to the knife. All right?

©2004 JJP