The song is in the Scab thread, but I figure that not but three people will ever listen to it in its entirety. It's an eight and a half minute little turncoat, after all. I'm kind of proud of the words...they're fairly abstract, which is my preference, and lyrics rarely hold up well to the loss of surrounding. But I figure this might get me a chance to get feedback from some people who don't always go for the music threads.

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She only breathed of the bitter winds
Of going down, and not coming up again
Her family was a bruising sight
Leather seats and one headlight

And when it sputtered and refused to run
They told her she was the weaker one
But she wouldn't believe that, and she never did

Like a drawing on an old cave wall
They had the feeling of something tall
But they lashed out small and dull
With all the power of one lightbulb

It was nothing. It held no threat
Just the fear of being dark and wet
And alone

And wondering...where did we go wrong?

Oma's short, but she's throwing up
She telephones her sister for luck
Cool water detunes the hound
Even difference depends on sound

Leaning on Apollo's gun
We can sell these to anyone
Pawn the piano, keep the hammer

Never give me that surrender stare
There is hope growing everywhere
Think of Oma sitting at her loom
A single snowflake in an embered room

Still, maybe that's the flood
Feeling water where there should be blood
Every heartbeat moving hard to drown you

And wondering...where did we go wrong?

So never feed her a penny, son
This dog's been whipped and run
The change would kill her, hard and slow

Let her feed on the odd field mouse
And beg for scraps at the neighbor's house
She comes back smelling of sweet tobacco

And wondering...where did we go wrong?

im reminded of several things, including tom waits. im defintely going to check out the scab thread once i get my computer speakers going again.

I'm taking that as a compliment.

thats how it was intended.

Why did you leave out the Cadillac floats down that road... section?

Are you a fan of Conrad Aiken?

I honestly can't remember why I left it out, now. I know I did it on purpose, but your guess is as good as mine.

I wasn't. Now, I am a fan.

I don't post here much because it takes me awhile to analyze why things cause certain responses in me. I prefer to just listen or read and let the responses remain pure and unanalyzed, but that poem recalled something for me that I hadn't felt/thought about in a while.

I was thinking about it last night, and I came up with this verse:

For I think of you, crumpled against a whiteness;
Flayed and torn, with a dulled face.
I think of you, writing, a thing of scarlet,
And myself, rising red from that embrace.

I'm not sure if that's quite what I was thinking about. I'll have to mull it over a while longer. But I liked this poem very much. I miss the musical setting. It aids and enhances the meter in verse 2.

I'll have more to say later. I need to think about it a bit more.