Version Onethese envelopes stuffed with damp
you wrote of the truce between the mind and heart
of numbness in the tips of fingers
of carefully constructed life
the arbitrary noise calls us home
tricked by rickets and splendor
june drapes itself on the drying line
traffic glistens like a silver snake
I cannot remember the last time we were
where the solemn monolith rests
closeted by fears of precision
drunken hypotheses
decay on the seams of the temple
fits and starts
the resurrection of the body
infatuated with death
you steeple your fingers
pricking the tip of a tongue
ladling asprin
Version TwoWith fits and starts, tricked like rickets by splendor,
arbitrary noises call us home.
With drunken hypotheses,
we try to see the edges of light
like that carefully constructed life
with the resurrection of the body,
to sop up our pain like soup.
And We Can Never Decide Where To Stop;
infatuated with death, we steeple our fingers.
these envelopes stuffed with damp
line the streets like tissue paper
Bathing the sky in infamy
is simple as purity
and dark.
We can see the rust of clouds,
but also the decay on the seams of temples,
and roses wound round serpents.
Traffic glistens like a silver snake;
the pricking of its red tongue tip
sends numbness to the tips of fingers.
a truce between the mind and heart
breaking
down
our cardboard box
A solemn monolith drapes itself on the drying line.
Ladling asprin, with saturated visions, closeted by fears of precision—
we tremble and beg the question,
and try to see the edges of light
to sop up our pain like soup,
and I cannot remember the last time we didn’t.
- All music and lyrics written by Fred. Version One produced and arranged by Mariko. Version Two produced and arranged by Dalia.
Labels: Fred
7/17/2007 06:15:00 PM