Tell it to the judge, man. Tell it to your motherless reflection. In a sock and one shoe after the great defection he said, \"tell a lie sometimes, tell the truth when it suits you, and when you've lost your way tell a story.\"
Tell your story, tell it, tell it. Tell your story to anyone who'll listen. Tell your story, don't stop talking just tell your story walking.
Listing through Carol Gardens on the way to Cobble Hill I stopped by a psychic's dusty, wilted windowsill. Forgot what she told me, mostly but I remember one thing she said \"You may slip and call some lousy fuck your friend but in the end you'll come out even then, tell your story.\"
And it's a sorry, frightful thing when you want to cry, but you can't keep from laughing. Outside the church that's so quiet it dares you to shout you put a hand to your mouth to stop the rain. You do a St. Vitus dance, to the sky you raise your voice. This is your chance, you have no choice you tell your story.