Desa
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Another youthful plan gets dragged ashore.
One more angel fails her pregnancy test.
Diploma dangles amid grade school photos.
Yearbook autographs are my only connection.
The disappearing ink signatures are like fossils now.
I've driven stories into the ground.
Lost track of faces I swore I'd always remember.
Childhood left without a sound.
I stare at old drawings and things I've written down
and I think the disappearing ink sketches must be from another world.
9 years ago I felt like I'd be young forever.
Now phantom former loves have apartments with no address.
This shapeless poem throws new shadows
as it stretches farther across my lined paper life.
Another color fades from memory.
One more dream gets tangled and threatens to drown.
Kisses sparkle between cloudy weekdays we waste for a rent check.
It's checkmate for most kids. We play by the rules but it's
someone else's game. How I miss the secret sounds.
A fluttering eyelash or a
dance floor collision.
Childhood left without a sound.
Our eyes were stuck on angels as the plane went down in the distance.
The search and rescue future still has much to figure out.
If I knew then what I know now, I'd know this thought is over.
Why waste time on time machines?
They don't exist or make you younger.


Mirror lyrics:

They don't exist or make you younger.
Why waste time on time machines?
If I knew then what I know now, I'd know this thought is over.
The search and rescue future still has much to figure out.
Our eyes were stuck on angels as the plane went down in the distance.
Childhood left without a sound.
dance floor collision.
A fluttering eyelash or a
someone else's game. How I miss the secret sounds.
It's checkmate for most kids. We play by the rules but it's
Kisses sparkle between cloudy weekdays we waste for a rent check.
One more dream gets tangled and threatens to drown.
Another color fades from memory.
as it stretches farther across my lined paper life.
This shapeless poem throws new shadows
Now phantom former loves have apartments with no address.
9 years ago I felt like I'd be young forever.
and I think the disappearing ink sketches must be from another world.
I stare at old drawings and things I've written down
Childhood left without a sound.
Lost track of faces I swore I'd always remember.
I've driven stories into the ground.
The disappearing ink signatures are like fossils now.
Yearbook autographs are my only connection.
Diploma dangles amid grade school photos.
One more angel fails her pregnancy test.
Another youthful plan gets dragged ashore.


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