And I'd write you a letter
To explain all my actions
But I'd only take it too far again,
And you'll consign me to that shoebox
Underneath the place where you hang your coats,
On a par with train tickets and badges.
Well maybe that's justice,
On a par with train tickets and badges,
I'll be at home with objects
That can pierce your heart and
Take you far away.
Paint me with loyal marks,
At least ignore me with feeling.
Good arms. Painter.
And the style of her dress
Is no longer screaming A line,
Simply saying that the rest
Of the alphabet
Had gone away
To spell other words and phrases that day
So there was no "U" to be found.
Only memories of "x"'s.
Paint me with loyal marks,
At least ignore me with feeling.
Good arms. Painter.
This time I'm not just thinking out loud.