(to listen, click on the date)
WHAT IS RIGHT AND WHAT IS LEFT
in my dreams i always see you
wandering on the rocks
your glass hands eerie and frozen
and in those hands a box
and in the box, my beating heart
patient as grenades
as the hopes of our defeated
we filled up and blew away
you can call me thoughtless
from miles away you whispered my name
you said, i think this is yours
and i said, no, you keep it. i have others.
yes, keep it. i have more.
people mingle up until
they can't be told apart
and neither can tell where hopeless ends
and where romantic starts
you can call me thoughtless
i am the skeptic. through and bred
i'd second-guess death
any fool knows what's right is right
and then there's what is left
that's mister thoughtless same to you
i've taken falls for love
and saw it midwife misery
now i don't touch the stuff
you can call me thoughtless
i look around this room i see
a cyst of chairs and dust
and winter hangs from the windows
like xrays of lungs
who cough an infestation of light
that crawls all over us
and freights every last drop of dark
to their queen inside the sun
the ocean pitching waves to tide
their dugout in the sky
if mother nature hits one home
it's us that rinse the knife
that's what i call thoughtless
now that's what i call thoughtless
das - washington, d.c. u.s.a.