Rooms for Rent

no, dont put away those
flowered curtains
’cause i dont want to look inside
stacking pennies to the ceiling
so i can give my two cents
to get your love?

what its worth has been a lifetime
of confusion; a cloudy rainy day
but then it never mattered
where the sunlight been
you took me there
anyhow

and i never left the room

i could not say how i went away when
your head was pinned against my breast
in the shallow heights of your tempest love.

twenty years gone youre dead now
i cant seem to shake the hand of freedom
and i cant save pennies for a rainy day

there is no real way of discriminating tears
when hearts need mending and no one answers the phone
as if i could see god smile; as if could comprehend god smiling

looks like laughter in a looking glass and what i see isnt funny
anymore

i remember the truth about myself

i cant discriminate tears and they will fall no matter what time it is
when nobody answers the phone and my heart needs mending
this thread is wearing me mighty
thin

may as well become a paper-doll
what-you-see-is-what-you-get
cut.
around the edges with tiny holes
to pull the thread through
that will move me; that will give me
life

a paper-doll puppet on a string.
and when im played too long
and my patterned posture will tear
and the threads will be lost
and i will be left
crumpled
in the corner of some
cobblestone fire ring
alone…

no one
can play me