Eyes met, and memory changed its direction, complete with that filing of music; and vision undressed. Heart almost stopped, and the room tipped downward.
The innocent angel, here and there, cold and unaware of your misfortunes while smiling at others. There's a way she knocks that sounds like branches scratching at your door in a windstorm. And this one time I answered, and with doorknob still in hand I stood in disbelief as I was whispered to. And I knew that I had kept forgetting just then but that this had happened before, and so I listened, and so I followed. And somehow there's a way to remember.
Left by the door,
at the edge of escape,
run til you can't
remember anymore.
Well that didn't work.
Now what's your plan?
Wait til you can't
remember anymore.
Well this is my shovel,
and there lies the path:
and just up ahead
lies buried your fear.
Instructor in the front of the minivan has no good explanation for what you are seeing. Car sickness approaches, everyone out, gravel road, and full bladder. It's eight degrees too cold. I try to catch your eye, but my nose is too runny; this will only happen two more times.
The drugs let you pave
a path through the heavens, where
the trees have their names
labeled on plaques.
Well this is my shovel
and there lies the path.
The trees have their names
at the edge of escape.
Well that didn't work.
Now what's your plan?
Wait til you can't
run anymore.
The home of your dreams
lies quiet in the woods,
immune from the world,
but close, close at hand.
Why would you assume anything you can't explain must be in a book somewhere? I doubt that many have been written, but I grabbed you one discarded in the hall, somewhere out beyond the pigeon's call.
Now that you're awake, someone's here, someone's whispering in your inner ear. The pink light breaking told me that the day is here.
Why would you assume anything you can't explain must be in a book somewhere? I doubt the one you're looking for is really there.
And memory spun backwards again: so let's choose to forget.
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