Brad Hamers - Mechanical... And Stuck In A Downpour | Текст песни

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• Brad Hamers
• Mechanical... And Stuck In A Downpour

my light bulb buzzes for the cordless phone on the counter that rings once a day
out of nail biting rituals and greeting kisses are cards that always seem to say more with their
mouths shut the ideas count but nothing adds up to be much outside black suits
and wood boxes we’ve all got somewhere to go the cemetery waiting list club membership
your life insurance won’t save you there’s not enough room to write on small paper = the problem
with jail cells he’s three meals a day a movie for tv special not one frame in this place has a
single picture the blank pages in the back of a text book his laughter grew up to be the kind
of closing bell we all wore shoes and handshakes for because he always made his weeping wear the
color of laughter that never matched the tone of anyone’s conversation
even if rain was in tomorrow’s forecast
no one likes a magnifying glass in popular shoes and custom made family reunion shirts
he always referred to her as the book he lost somewhere just before he finished reading it
and stores don’t carry the pages with personalized noted and highlights
-likes 3 spoons of sugar in tea
-hates the static on radio
i wonder if the sun poses on its way out knowing people behind cameras perform heart
transplants to its closing credits the lowercase folks with their sharp words
cutting conversation down to hand gestures and lip syncing in perfect synchrony
the swimming routine that always wins the smile of a girl with the sun in her eyes
the same song - we all just prefer to sing it differently
and audience always matters
even if you write for yourself
keep your small world small
i wonder if art existed long before the word

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