:: Idle Neurosis ::

:: Monday, November 01, 2004 ::

A Plea from a Cat Named Virtue

why don't you ever want to play?
I'm tired of this piece of string.
you sleep as much as i do now
and you don't eat much of anything
I don't know who you're talking to,
I made a search through every room
but all I found was dust that moves
and shadows of the afternoon.

And listen, about those bitter songs you sing,
They're not helping anything.
They won't make you strong.

So we should open up the house,
invite the tabby two doors down,
you could ask your sister if
she doesn't bring her basset hound.
As for things you shouldn't miss,
tape his and the modern man,
Cold war and card catalogs,
to come and join us if they can.

For girly drinks and parlor games.
Pass around the easy lie.
of absolutely no regret
and later maybe you could try
to let your losses dangle off
the sharp edge of the century
we could talk about the weather or
how the weather used to be.

And i'll cater
with all the birds that i can kill
let their tiny feathers fill
dissapointment
lie down
and lick the sorrow from your skin
scratch the terror and begin
to believe your strong

All you ever wanna do is
drink and watch TV
and frankly that thing doesn't really interest me.
I swear I'm gonna bite you hard
and taste your tinny blood
if you don't stop the self-defeating lies you've been repeating since the day you brought me home
I know you're strong.


~tHE wEAKERTHANS
stellar lady:: Anonymous 11:17 PM [+] ::
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