"WOODWORK"
© 2010 Oliver John-Rodgers (OJR)
I fell asleep to the sound of a new year
Commercials sellin’ products tellin’ me how to cheer
I need a map for all the friends that I’ve lost
They move away or find a friendship with a lower cost
My mind is made like a bed that no one sleeps in
I try to talk to myself, but I won’t listen
I'm spending money at the market, wasting my time
I look in vain for the apple of my eye
I woke up to the sound of a bird’s chirp
It made me want to come out of the woodwork
To learn the language of the bird and the way it sings
So I could know when she’s talkin’ about me
When she calls me “flat," she calls me “brat," she calls me anything
She calls me names through alarm clock ringing
I can’t create when she leaves me so exhausted
Take my head, here, it’s rotting in nostalgia
My voice it quivers in the quiet of a closet
All my eggs fall through holes in holy baskets
I keep the past held tightly in my hands
Lest I let it go and have to face the present
Nothing changes but the fret I put my fingers on
Nothing changes but the name I call each same song
Dirty water from the spigot sets the tempo
I’m a burnt-out house with broken windows