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Robert Pollard
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In A Circle
the grass was flat
we all sat around in a circle
the dirt was moist
I moved a finger in a circle
we all sat around in a circle
I moved a finger in a circle
we stand in a circle
we move in a circle
timed, wounded and bruised like a logical bound
hands down
in rutine exercise
in inconstant reverie
in makeshift comfort suites
in nine o'clock meetings
papa's willow still weep
young hearts are all aflutter
on wings of concrete
just like the man in the gutter
come to the width of our circle
stiff-arm your way to the middle
we stand in a circle
we move in a circle
timed, wounded and bruised like a logical bound
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hands down
in rutine exercise
in inconstant reverie
in makeshift comfort zones
in nine o'clock meetings
we stand in a circle
we move in a circle
timed, wounded and bruised like a logical bound
hands down
in rutine exercise
in inconstant reverie
in makeshift comfort suites
in nine o'clock meetings
we stand in a circle
we move in a circle
timed, wounded and bruised like a logical bound
hands down
in rutine exercise
in inconstant reverie
in makeshift comfort suites
in nine o'clock meetings
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