Nobody Swoons for the Watermelon Moon
This time, it’s time, I think
To switch things up a little bit.
I’ve written songs about you -
Stories with more soul
Than an opera singer
With half a face,
More truth than a lifeless face
With a lifeless bottle
In some empty case.
But muses, likes fuses, I’ve found
Burn out and with them
The city burns down.
But you’ve lit no spark
And fed no flame,
Fuck, we hardly even speak.
And yet you sit far away,
Live and laugh and, shit,
Your face is everywhere,
Everyday.
Where did you come from?
Where did you go?
My fingers, my mind,
They’re dying to know,
To pen, perhaps, the lifelong story
Of you and your peppered soul.
But my heart begs for change,
Whatever it may be -
Status quo is a bitch
When you’re living so free.
I need to see, believe, for me
A place to rest and sleep and breathe
You follow my steps
From tree to tree
Like a monkey with wings
Or an angel on speed.
Or something of the sort
If you know what I mean.
