You and MeMe...My heart was shattered into piecesspread all over the floorbroken red shards of glassAnd I was at the bottomgiving up on people, humanity, lifemyselfI was without a friendor jobor homeSurviving on dimes I found in parking lotsliving out of my carAnd you...You came along with a broom and some super glueand swept up the shattered glass and gluedthe pieces of my heart back togetherYou picked me up off my feetheld me in your armssaw through the frown on my face and the tears in my eyes(which you promptly kissed away)You didn't support me like I expectedbut rather picked me up and made me stand on my own feetyou said you'd be behind me if I should stumbleBut I'm doing it on my ownWith three words you built my confidence, made me smilepushed the hair out of my eyesWith a single kiss you through a rope ladder into the hole I had dugAnd gave me back my faith in humanityand of course in myselfAnd I ...I love you for it.Because of your love I am strongerbette
Punk RockerI see you at shows, slamming into the crowd,Your blue mohawk, oddly in place amongst your friends.Your ripped jeans and tattered Vans are more than just a fashion.To you it's life.The feeling you get when you don your studded jacket and mosh to the sounds of Anti-Flag get you high. (Higher than the dope you shoot into you arm)You live your life as if it were a scene from SLC Punk,Or a Ramones lyric.Can Jello Biafra do any wrong?You try to fight the system, to fuck the man.You'd rather die than bray along with the rest of the sheep.And still, in your own irony you bray with your own.Eventually you will cut your hair, trade your jeans for a suit...And let your ideals and that wonderful feeling fadeInto nothing but a yellowed photograph of what you used to be.An anarchist evolved (or maybe devolved)into a a quiet conservative businessmanAnd you'll tell your children to avoid the kids with the blue mohawks and the ripped jeans
A home without a homeAgree(ment) with the pouring rain:It comes often, strolls past, and (I) will stand,under bridges, face up.Until my shirt sucks against my skinand my pants slink low.It will all flow away
AfraidI sit here, watching the smoke from an abandoned Camel drift up in the air, watching the way it mixes with the steam from my semi-hot Tim Hortons'.Not knowing where to go, but dreading going home.Afraid of the darkness in my room, afraid of the emptiness in my bed... Afraid of the hopefullness in my dreams.(why is that the hardest part?)I flip through the pictures on my phone, they're all of you.I can't help but smile as Black Francis repeats the words to track 10 of the cd left in my car.(La La Love You...)Don't mean maybe...neither did I.Smiling through tears is such a strange thing... like sunshine when it's raining.
Smoking In the DrivewayI could see my breath forming words--sounds-- You pulled me closerand closer tight against your taughtlips.I don't remember if I dropped my cigaretteor just let it burn holesin my hand. Grayish yellow carpet;littered with down feathers, hiddenin a corner.lingering smoke, hugging empty bottles, stickycounters and cups overturned.We live in a woods of rum bottles and plastic cupsand I can't wait to start fires…