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Age 39, looking over from my hotel window, |
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Blue dots and red dots skating away in the park. |
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I used to be there twenty years ago, |
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Huffing over a mug hot chocolate drink. |
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Age 39, looking over from my hotel wind, |
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Wondering if one should jump off or go to sleep. |
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People tell you up is better than down, |
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But they never tell you which is up and which is down. |
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Age 39, looking over from my hotel wind, |
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95 pound bundle but it's trouble when there's nowhere to leave. |
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People say stardust and golddust are it, |
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But they never tell you it chokes you just as sawdust do. |
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Age 39, feeling pretty suicidal, |
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The weight gets heavier when you've bled thirty years. |
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Show me your blood, john, and i'll show you mine, |
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They say it's running even when you're asleep. |
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No trace of resentment, no trace of regrets, |
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One blood's thinner but both look red and fresh. |
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If i ever die, please go to my daughter |
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And tell her that she used to haunt me in my dreams. |
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(that's saying a lot for a neurotic like me.) |
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Age 39, looking over from my hotel window, |
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Trying to tackle away with heart of clay. |
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The weight gets lighter when there's nowhere to turn, |
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God's little dandruff floating in the air. |
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Age 39, looking over the world, |
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Age 39, floating over the world, |
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Age 39,...mm-mm...floating along. |
