Pendragon
02-04-2008, 12:36 PM
The Derelict’s Song
A face in the crowd or a whisper of smoke—
The shards of a mirror tipped over and broke—
The granules left over when you pour out the tea:
Somewhere in there you might find a reflection of me…
The moth at your window that keeps you from sleep—
The sudden realization that it is Friday the Thirteenth—
Those left-over memories you swore that you never would keep:
I know how you feel it’s a darn good description of me…
That burn in your gut from drinking too much straight tequila—
Too many days sorting through too dang much memorabilia—
Trying to find peace is like trying to empty out the North Sea:
Might as well help you bail because you remind me of me…
And you people out there with your wine and your money—
You probably think poor rats like us are deplorably funny—
You might want to take a good look at the things that you see:
Luck don’t last forever, I’ll save you a spot down here next to me…
Pendragon
2/4/08
A face in the crowd or a whisper of smoke—
The shards of a mirror tipped over and broke—
The granules left over when you pour out the tea:
Somewhere in there you might find a reflection of me…
The moth at your window that keeps you from sleep—
The sudden realization that it is Friday the Thirteenth—
Those left-over memories you swore that you never would keep:
I know how you feel it’s a darn good description of me…
That burn in your gut from drinking too much straight tequila—
Too many days sorting through too dang much memorabilia—
Trying to find peace is like trying to empty out the North Sea:
Might as well help you bail because you remind me of me…
And you people out there with your wine and your money—
You probably think poor rats like us are deplorably funny—
You might want to take a good look at the things that you see:
Luck don’t last forever, I’ll save you a spot down here next to me…
Pendragon
2/4/08