lyrics
“I had my ears closed and my hands were wrapped in a beautiful cold. Trees jutted out around me—they had become thin and pale, not as they were when I first came; I was young and without care. Those trees reminded me of a balding man who, in a last effort, installed plugs in his bare scalp. Surrounded by concrete and steel those thin, pale trees were a youthful plea from an aged, dying Mother.
“I was knee deep in that marsh of a dead head reading about a time too far to see. They kept on walking by and I didn’t look. I had no care of skirt or tale, only that other world which would never know me. As I read a wind moved across me, my body filled with goose pimples, and I realized that I had no bargaining power.
“Never could I sway leaves to grow a greener shade; sway buds to bloom; sway architecture to reconstruct; sway another mind to sync with mine, think my thoughts, live my past. For I have no bargaining power. A fingerless man in a house of spoons would say that I then have no hope at all, but I, (the queer, the mute, the sinner, the brute, Sisyphus’ rock, Monet’s eyes, that man on the corner who you mock, the teeth in the mouth of the tongue that lies…) I think that hope is all I have, because now—now I have nothing to hope for. That is why I dig into this moving earth: To sculpt a sphere of my own.
“Subdued are the hands that clasp hold to the ware. Brazen are the hands that hold the tools which shape. And I’m tripping over the tools wherever I go…”
credits
license
all rights reserved