Thursday, September 1, 2011

The Speech
Don't believe what I say
Question these wandering lips
I'm a wayfarer of words, I travel on broken speech
I've cut wanting hearts on shards of desperation
Made them bleed deeply in soundless emotion
Oh don't believe these moving lips
I'll try to hold back, as much as you've been warned
But I got a serpent's tongue with a razor, poisoned tip
And for you these scarred, slithering lips run fast
Speak slowly in silent time
Be told, you with your gentle eyes
Be remembered, you with your sweet woman's lips
I'm a wayfarer of broken words
I'm a traveller of dying verse
Cut I am by shards of your wandering speech

1 comment:

Old Ollie said...

you are the master of post-modern-cool - OO