Another dream of “normal” life,
At a trash ‘n’ treasure market,
At the end of a life spent in utter pride
burn away the wool from the head
Casting a street light shadow,
even though I have Joy Division at top volume
First was the birth, of course,
I’m shifting the furniture of my mind,
I’m writing this because the doctor told me to.
I’ve heard them sing of a sacred chord,
once I bought a box of matches
sometimes it’s necessary to mess with (reality)
the dr. prescribes the latest pills
The first candle she lit was for Grandad.
Under years of dust, at the back of the garage,
What if they came up with a pill,
