Bad Song
The end is getting closer, babe.
Getting closer with every word.
The words we’re exchanging, babe.
Are spoken but not heard.
Don’t know where I’m heading, babe.
Don’t know who I could be.
Don’t know what I’m feeling, babe.
Just know I must be free.
Cannot Rhyme
I am so tired I cannot think.
Pig heads in my dreams, pale and pink.
Cannot sleep but by morn I rise,
For beautiful breakfast under grey-ish skies.
Natural is a word that is not easy to say,
But it’s essential to know if my hair’s that way.
Cannot rhyme, cannot sing, cannot even dance.
Do not understand this flirtatious parlance.
Watched Phoenix rise in the guise of Cash.
Strings a-strummed like the devil’s lash.
Digital strings on numeric wings,
Flings and things on sunlit springs.
