27-10-09

27-9-09

I’d sing you every word I write
if I thought I had a voice worth listening to,
But I don’t.
I’d compose you a song too,
If I knew how to,
I’d teach myself to
if I thought it would woo
you .
but I know you are leagues
and leagues and leagues away.

It’d all be acoustic, plucking single lonely
strings and it wouldn’t go anywhere – lonely
on airwaves that play those pathetic, repetitive lonesome
songs ‘cause you’re all I’d sing about and it would get so old,
so, so, so, quickly.

If I thought I could make you smile,
I’d do everything and so much more,
If you asked.
If you said jump, I’d say how high?
If you said run, I’d say how far?
If you said get up, I’d be on my feet.
If you said go, I’d say now?
If you said I love you, I’d remember it forever,
Even if you never ever really meant it.

Can you hear my whiny, strained voice?
Plucking lonesome strings that are trying to snap,
that are cracking and blistering all my single fingers and thumb,
This never gets old for me – it never leaves my mind – SNAP,
every string just killed itself for playing such a tragic song
so, so, so many times.