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Book On Tape Worm
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To Mock a Killingbird
The apple doesn't fall very far from the tree;
Sir Isaac, your law has worked on me.
I tried to catch a ride on James' Peach.
He threw me off the side,
said there wasn't enough room for me.
So where do I fit in the stories you read to me?
I need some dreams to fill up my sleep.
And where do I fit in the stories you read to me?
I need some dreams to fill up sleep.
Because I used to be as crisp
as the 'shh' in Madeleine L'Engle's lisp,
But now I'm soggy, oh,
I'm soggy.
So now I work a job with a shirt and tie
and watch safely from my desk as the world goes rolling by.
There's not a wind in my door nor a wrinkle in my time
How can that world be so much different than mine?
And where do I fit in the stories you read to me?
I need some dreams to fill up my sleep.
And where do I fit in the stories you read to me?
I need some dreams to fill up sleep.
Because now I feel the same
as Bean in Ender's Game.
In the shadows I'll remain,
unaccomplished.
What is the word you said I'd never heard? 'Sleep.'
What is the word you said I'd never heard? 'Sleep.'
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What is the word you said I'd never heard? 'Sleep'... 'Sleep.'
So I run my fingers over this ink
as I run these pages across my wrists
over the sink.
Fictitious char(actors) don't
bleed like this and I don't know
why my blood's spilling out like so much prose
as the blank white page of my tile grows more re(a)d
than the books of my childhood.
So I run my fingers over this ink
as I run these pages across my wrists
over the sink.
Fictitious char(actors) don't
bleed like this and I don't know
why my blood's spilling out like so much prose
as the blank white page of my tile grows more re(a)d
than the books of my childhood.
So where do I fit in the stories you read to me?
I need some sleep so that I can dream.
And where do I fit in the the stories you read to me?
I need some sleep so that I can dream.
Because I never thought I'd be
an obituary.
But a paragraph, that's me.
I'm sorry.
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