I'm sorry I cannot "help" you
Cannot affix butterfly wings to the blades in your shoulders
that vibrate at frequencies
of chartreuse, maroon and mahogany
To sail you off the edge of the earth, over outer space
so you can shoot the shit with the stars
shrink yourself to match a matchbook
grow yourself to challenge dog-woods to dodge ball
An' all before breakfast, too.
Butterfly wings that make glass stained shades of saints jealous
so that you would always feel beautiful and know that you
are Divinity's descendant.
Turbo-boost wings so that you could out soar the dragons that you
can't seem to keep slain. Big,
seductive, easy-as-you please wings
quicker and more powerful then all the other wings given to you by those whose pockets grow fat to the tune of your gradual, self-inflicted death march--
passed off as bubblegum pop
Wings that carry you beyond the high
beyond your head and the lies that live there
past the meanings of words that little boys shouldn't have to say
to safely and soundly keep the bad men at bay, the zealots from extremes
a light in every dark place and all the in-betweens-
But I can't give you these butterfly wings.
they too will transform
into one more distraction from veracity.
And I can't be
another one of those
broken-promise pushers
pedaling my wares where one finds shortcut seekers.
If you wanna swim with the birds
and fly with the fishes
Baby, I'm sorry to tell you
the only way out
is through.
So here's what you do:
Find the the most scrupulous sword.
Drape yourself in iron-willed armor,
and bless your arrows so that they always hit their mark.
I will hold your hand
When even with all of these things
you still feel defeated
Assemble an infantry to storm the castle
of The Queen of Hearts that still chases you in your sleep-
Steal back your crown
replace it on your head to stop the aching.
Find rocks for slingshot
to shoot the voices hiding in
the mountains in your mind
so that they will finally stop talking
And you can start thinking.
I will rejoice with you
When all of these things are through
and sunlight seeps past your bedroom window
and onto your waking eyelids...
By then
it will have all seem to have just been a bad dream.
So, what do you say we skip the wings?
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5 comments:
Love it!! I can't wait to see you perform it live! :)
Original:
I'm sorry I cannot "help" you
Cannot affix butterfly wings to the blades in your shoulders
that vibrate at frequencies
of chartreuse, maroon and mahogany
To sail you off the edge of the earth, over outerspace
so you can shoot the shit with the stars
shrink yourself to match a matchbook
grow yourself to challenge dog-woods to dodge ball
An' all before breakfast, too.
Butterfly wings that make glass stained shades of saints jealous
so that you would always feel beautiful and know that you are
Divinity's descendant.
Turbo-boost wings so that you could out sour the dragons that you
can't seem to keep slain.
Big, seductive, easy-as-you please wings
quicker and more powerful then all the other wings given to you by the leeches living off your blood
Wings that carry you beyond the high
beyond your head and the lies that live there
past the meanings of words that little boys shouldn't have to say
to safely and soundly keep the bad men at bay, the zealots from extremes
a light in every dark place and all the in-betweens-
But I can't give you these butterfly wings.
like all the others they will transform
into yet another distraction from veracity.
And I can't be
another one of those
broken-promise pushers
pedaling my wares where one finds shortcut seekers.
If you wanna swim with the birds
and fly with the fishes
Baby, I'm sorry to tell you
the only way out is through.
But I will help you find the swiftest sword.
Help drape you with the most protective armor,
bless your arrows so that they always hit their mark
and hold your hand when even with all of these things
you still feel defeated.
I will help you assemble an infantry to storm the castle
of The Queen of Hearts that still chases you in your sleep-
Where you can steal back your crown
replace it on your head to stop the aching.
Find rocks for slingshot
to shoot the voices hiding in
the mountains in your mind
so that they will finally stop talking
And you can start thinking.
I will rejoice with you;
when all these things are through
and sunlight seeps past your bedroom window
and onto your waking eyelids...
By then
it will have all seem to have just been a bad dream.
So, what do you say we skip the wings?
Love this:
I will hold your hand
When even with all of these things
you still feel defeated
And the ending is perfect!
aw, shucks!
I'm sorry I cannot "help" you
Cannot affix butterfly wings to the blades in your shoulders
that vibrate at frequencies
of chartreuse, maroon and mahogany
To sail you off the edge of the earth, over outerspace
so you can shoot the shit with the stars
shrink yourself to match a matchbook
grow yourself to challenge dog-woods to dodge ball
An' all before breakfast, too.
Butterfly wings that make glass stained shades of saints jealous
so that you would always feel beautiful and know that you are
Divinity's descendant.
Turbo-boost wings so that you could out sour the dragons that you
can't seem to keep slain.
Big, seductive, easy-as-you please wings
quicker and more powerful then all the other wings given to you by leeches living off your blood
Wings that carry you beyond the high
beyond your head and the lies that live there
past the meanings of words that little boys shouldn't have to say
to safely and soundly keep the bad men at bay, the zealots from extremes
a light in every dark place and all the in-betweens-
But I can't give you these butterfly wings.
like all the others they will transform
into yet another distraction from veracity.
And I can't be
another one of those
broken-promise pushers
pedaling my wares where one finds shortcut seekers.
If you wanna swim with the birds
and fly with the fishes
Baby, I'm sorry to tell you
the only way out is through.
So here's what you do:
Find the the most scrupulous sword.
Drape yourself in iron-willed armor,
and bless your arrows so that they always hit their mark.
I will hold your hand
When even with all of these things
you still feel defeated
Assemble an infantry to storm the castle
of The Queen of Hearts that still chases you in your sleep-
Steal back your crown
replace it on your head to stop the aching.
Find rocks for slingshot
to shoot the voices hiding in
the mountains in your mind
so that they will finally stop talking
And you can start thinking.
I will rejoice with you
When all of these things are through
and sunlight seeps past your bedroom window
and onto your waking eyelids...
By then
it will have all seem to have just been a bad dream.
So, what do you say we skip the wings?
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