THE OLD STORIES
Dummy, he got a new brain today, down at Rite Aid
He had a special team put it in his head
Go Dummy, Go Go Go...the cheerleaders sing
Hardass, he stands in line, he'd like a new heart
maybe they'll find one that will tolerate him
Me, I stand under the grinning idiot faucet
I let the waters of woe blow and roll
A stooped over way of seeing, it wobbles alongside
claims it has a bag of old stories for sale
everyone is running pell mell past me
they couldn't give a damn for the old stories
they are in too much of a hurry to either glibly watch or
overwroughtly take part in
all those new stories unfolding in every moment
They check out all your stories and texture of skin
at the invisible borders of your heart
Dummy, he got a PHD in Seeming, today, down at the Rite Aid
He had a special way of smiling put in his head
Go Dummy, Go Go Go...the press agents sing
Hardass, he holds the elusive air, he'd like a congenial bag
maybe they will find one for him beneath the counter
Me, I bathe complacent under the bleeding faucet's metier
I let those waters of woe blow and roll
A determined yet dying way of being, it leaps alongside
claims I'm an old story it just needs to tell
everyone would like to clear my range
but i'm sort of standing kind of angular
in all my old stories
and just can't seem to find the way to
be budged out of their way
---Scott
Wannberg |
