|
the thing about gravity |
|
it won't ever let on |
|
the gavel won't knock yet |
|
it's just the falling and falling |
|
it's a wholly different day |
|
than what i woke in yesterday |
|
blink at the ceiling |
|
and everything has changed |
|
and there is nothing to offer |
|
that won't look meek in the morning light |
|
i got nothing to offer |
|
but words that just keep falling down all the time |
|
hey youre a bullet |
|
youre a bullet now |
|
given the blacktop |
|
and a donkey to ride |
|
there's some that you'll follow |
|
and some you'll bury in the night |
|
and august is gleaming |
|
and it's easy to forget |
|
that the record is leaning |
|
to overwrought and underfed |
|
hey youre a bullet |
|
youre a bullet now |
|
'i'm taken with purity' |
|
one time a mouth said to me |
|
with the moon on her shoulders |
|
and the water in her hair |
|
and with all of your clothes |
|
lying there on the bank |
|
and all of your troubles |
|
brought to the water softly sank |
