Saturday, March 22, 2008

more weirdness

nighttime gardening: the compulsion to not plant flowers until I need a flashlight to see their color, to mow my lawn when I can't tell the blades from my feet, to fix my hottub half-blind, all-vulnerable, aided by a votive candle and a butterknife. not perhaps the weirdest of my new set of neuroses, but the perfect metaphor for the symptom that has created it...

.

You spend all your time waiting
For that second chance
For a break that would make it okay
There's always some reason
To feel not good enough
And it's hard at the end of the day
I need some distraction
Oh beautiful release
Memories seep from my veins
Let me be empty
Oh, and weightless and maybe
I'll find some peace tonight

In the arms of the angel
Fly away from here
From this dark cold hotel room
And the endlessness that you fear
You are formed from the wreckage
Of your silent reverie
You're in the arms of your angel
May you find some comfort here

Your so tired of the straight line
And everywhere you turn
There's vultures and thieves at your back
And the storm keeps on twisting
You keep on building the lies
That you make up for all that you lack
It don't make no difference
Escaping one last time
It's easier to believe in this sweet madness oh
This glorious sadness that brings me to my knees

In the arms of the angel
Fly away from here
From this dark cold hotel room
And the endlessness that you fear
You are formed from the wreckage
Of your silent reverie
You're in the arms of the angel
May you find some comfort here
You're in the arms of your angel
May you find some comfort here

In the arms of the angel
may you find some comfort here

Friday, March 21, 2008