Thursday, April 02, 2009

Cruelty in Pieces (or Song For der Streuselist)

The center of the bed
It spins around inside his head
Old people he remembers well enough
Tell him it's time to feel free
Through telephone lines cut since Dawn
No one to call you bad"
And the coins running out of reach
If you choose to follow the ecto way
In no time things will feel fragile
Your reflections and decisions all feeble
Like old people passing you by

"Listen, darling
It will hurt to let you go
Though it's clear you'll hurt me so
And I won't listen to your life screaming out
At every corner
Loud words of confusion"

Would you ever try to complain
after breaking the strain of your dead mother song
Or would you try to change
To prove me wrong in my accusations?

"Life's not waiting on us
or on your cruelty to grow mature and disappear
My real fear stands between two lines:
disagreement and insignificance
Converging both with ever shorter distance
to a point called You."

Franc-tireur of my heart
Remove me from the lines
and eject me out of sight.

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