Tag Archives: scribblings

Drunk hammered piano
Porch idle picked guitar
And you’re scraping dust
From the cracked old elegant tile
Up on those gummy rubber treads
Them kickers and stompers, yeah
She’s there with her hair fine like sand
Honey brown and deep as old cork
Are you looking old?
Hating every sentence in your head
Ready to give this one up
There’s a kink in the hose
Nothing coming, bone dry
Well
Fuckit.

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Transcription

leaning on the counter writing this with another company’s blue gel pen because all night it’s been slow old jazz, remember that, there’s a lot of good lyrics sweet and sentimental thinking on them now they’re pretty poor poetry but in the right light powerful verse nonetheless, it’s not every kind of music just drips of a person, and it’s a fat heavy downpour outside so wherever I go I guess it’s thick in the air that I’m not where I should be, and if I don’t get there soon something is going to break becasue I only have so much capacity, you know, oh god god what the hell do I do, will you just indicate something please, this is just a circle I keep walking in please grab an arm or something pull me out get me back to me, I don’t know how I don’t know how

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