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The Sounds

No Faith Gone (Cut to Chase) [the rest]

 

...then I would have never found out who won the election

I would never have known your middle name

I would never be able to wipe the sleep from my eyes

And you would never know why

 

If I were to walk through the sand and run into a wall

If I were to smash my skull into tiny bits

If I were to die in my sleep before I finished this poem

Or get lost in a straight-jacket that didn’t even fit

 

Then I would never need lotion for my ashy feet

I would never have to think of you again

I would never have completed this run-on sentence

And you would have never known why

The Ultimatum?...yeah alright

You steadily ignite the sting in my cheek

As soon as the redness begins to fade

You rekindle the coals with the palm of your hand

Love me My Pet…love my every moan

 

You will love me only if I cater to your spills?

But my cup runneth over too…what can you do about that?

Can you cater to mine?...can you dance the dance?

Will you play the song that I long to hear?

Your needs seem to cause no dilemma to me

My hand…my mouth…my toe…my tongue

 

But would you be willing…or shall I say, able

To play my song the way I want to hear it?

It won’t be a problem even if you aren’t musically inclined

Just so long as you are able to carry a note or two…or three

Maybe it’s just me…but if you carry my notes

Then believe, Baby, I will carry yours.

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All rights reserved. © 2012-201821 by PM Atwood / Witch Hazel Widow Productions LLC.

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