Tuesday, 3 August 2010

Is it better

to waste your day watching the scenery change at a comatose rate, than to put yourself in it and turn into one of those cigarette ads that you hate?

But still, no one can stare at the wall as good as you, my babydoll

And just 'cause they call themselves experts
doesn't mean sweet fuck all
They've got the permanent press
Homes with a stable address

And they've got excitement
And life by the fistful
But you've got the needle
I guess that's the point of it all

From 'The Point of it All' by Amanda Palmer

Sunday, 1 August 2010

From Last Year's Leaves by Blanche

Last year's leaves
were just bad dreams.
Open up your eyes, there's no surprise:
just a barren tree

Low and behold
all those lies were true;
hear them ring, everything
people said about you

I thought I heard the falling rain
It always seems to numb the pain
Was that sound the poplar leaves,
screaming in the evening breeze?

Last year's leaves,
pathetic schemes
A trusted friend, till the end,
or so it seemed

You gave your word,
looked me in the eye.
Tell me how on earth, are you worth
the tears I've cried?

I thought I heard the falling rain;
it always seems to numb the pain.
Or was that sound the poplar leaves
screaming in the evening breeze
like last year's leaves?
You're last years leaves...