It's that time again
An equinox or a solstice
Can't remember which
But it's cold outside
People offer advice
Or say things that are trite
Like well that's life
Or it's part of the plan
And it's all I can do not to
Become
A stereotype
Pockets full of proses
Laurels, Carnations, and Roses
No words or ways
No turns of phrase
Can undo or redo or bring you back
A year elapsed just yesterday
And it all happened again
We know it's coming
So why are we never prepared
Jesus Christ
Can one thing go right
Can't read my own writing
No sound, no light
And it's all I can do not to
Become
A stereotype
Pockets full of proses
Laurels, Carnations, and Roses
No words or ways
No turns of phrase
Can undo or redo or bring you back
I hear your voice
Distorted and digital
I assumed the metaphor
And missed the literal
Too late
To offer my hand
For whatever good it may have done
Imagine finding you
Finding myself in your shoes
Not even touching the floor
Pockets full of proses
Laurels, Carnations, and Roses
No words or ways
No turns of phrase
Can undo or redo or bring you back
Jesus Christ can't one thing go right
Jesus Christ can't one thing go right
Jesus Christ can't one thing go right
Go right