Fork in the Parking Lot
You told me I could really turn a phrase.
I told you that you could really fill a frame.
Our patient words are still unheard;
The other doesn't hear. The other doesn't hear.
The fork's in the parking lot with the moon up in the sky.
Daydreaming on high midnight watching spaceships floating by.
Something's slipping underneath, I've fallen in again…
Catch me glove, catch me love, I'm falling in again.
I try my hand at speaking plain and find things to be worse.
The straightest words sound to me so hollow and rehearsed.
I resort again to complex metaphors hidden in the verse:
Stocky gout is proving the lion's den.
Oh, where can I begin? Oh, where, can I begin?
The fork's in the parking lot with the moon up in the sky.
Daydreaming on high midnight watching spaceships floating by.
Something's slipping underneath, I've fallen in again…
Catch me glove, catch me love, I'm falling in again.
I skip ahead to see myself settled down up to my knees
In the land of dreams where the wild things are born of fancy wings.
Will you please come with me as I dream the dream of the dreaming you and me?
The fork's in the parking lot with the moon up in the sky.
Daydreaming on high midnight watching spaceships floating by.
Something's slipping underneath, I've fallen in again…
Catch me glove, catch me love, I'm falling in again.
The fork's in the parking lot with the moon up in the sky.
Daydreaming on high midnight watching spaceships floating by.
Something's slipping underneath, I've fallen in again…
Catch me glove, catch me love, I'm falling in again.
Topic: Poem! (Read 752 times)
