Saturday, June 03, 2006
Friday, June 02, 2006
Not So Much Angry, as Desperate - The Quilt
Thursday, June 01, 2006
Angry Song: 1000 Pieces of Broken Glass
Suddenly destroyed by nothing in particular
I cross the less traveled path
into the center and out again
All the lefts and rights fall away
I am happiest when I cry
and he is angriest when he sleeps
Dear and sweetheart the waiter says
A pursuit more genuine
It is 1000 pieces of broken glass
it is all collected ephemera
He is angry when he sleeps
He is angriest when he sleeps
Hard and brassy in the park there is some huge turning
I pay too much money and leave before he returns
Perhaps the wicked pursuit I should abandon
is of you
my dear
But I am happiest when I cry
And he is angriest when he sleeps.
I cross the less traveled path
into the center and out again
All the lefts and rights fall away
I am happiest when I cry
and he is angriest when he sleeps
Dear and sweetheart the waiter says
A pursuit more genuine
It is 1000 pieces of broken glass
it is all collected ephemera
He is angry when he sleeps
He is angriest when he sleeps
Hard and brassy in the park there is some huge turning
I pay too much money and leave before he returns
Perhaps the wicked pursuit I should abandon
is of you
my dear
But I am happiest when I cry
And he is angriest when he sleeps.
Angry Song: The Store is Closed
Board me up, the store is closed
Dusty lessons and broken souls
Make the rust run off my nose
Board me up, the store is closed
Dime a dozen paper goods
Broken class and warping wood
Only dirt where my heart once stood
Board me up the store is closed
Just a phase of my younger days
Lines of books out the door
Life was filled but the ring of the till
was totalled to less not more
Sweep my hat and wax the floor
I will study war no more
It is hollow at the core
Board it up, the store is closed
Dusty lessons and broken souls
Make the rust run off my nose
Board me up, the store is closed
Dime a dozen paper goods
Broken class and warping wood
Only dirt where my heart once stood
Board me up the store is closed
Just a phase of my younger days
Lines of books out the door
Life was filled but the ring of the till
was totalled to less not more
Sweep my hat and wax the floor
I will study war no more
It is hollow at the core
Board it up, the store is closed
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