you times you

there's now a dozen you's in here, I counted them you see -
the you I left, the you you were, the you that's leaving still
and each one a little title to a social execution I didn't see
some greater mis-demenour I engineer backwards to make me
the indignant party, to make me scott-free
an alibi for my insides, something to help me sleep
make me feel the warm confort of the righteous
the deep content of the wronged...
but that's all bullshit and you know it, I know it.
We all know it.

downaredroad

on those nights,
when even my seed smells like guilt
I'll take a trail lake-side past a
Scout-hall shanty town
and down the red-road to you

sometimes, okay, so - maybe - mostly...

Most of the time
It's well understood,
Most of the time
I wouldn't change it if I could,
I can't make it all match up, I can hold my own,
I can deal with the situation right down to the bone,
I can survive, I can endure
And I don't even think about her
Most of the time.

~ Bob Dylan - Most Of The Time


well, yeah, you know, he said it...

providor

You're not the girl you think you are,
They're not his shoes under your bed,
He'll take you places in his car
That you won't forget, no 

~ Crowded House

I'm sorry for myself- does it show?
there's all those, god-damn accidental
tempting photos...
a digital sieve for me to slide a fever
through and break rash assumptions.
I shouldn't be allowed to sit myself at this hour
tangled up a globule table reach and
type type - whilst you with him
wasting no time, what can I give you now?
I don't want to be friends...
 I don't think I can
do it, see you all new little packet life
slip slide a new one in, replacements come cheap
right, but not till that November...we didn't do anything...at the house
like it was that, all that, that bothered me
you did it anywhere...in front of -
a public spectacle I am, still - deep where they
say goodbye - just a ruined -
a soft-spot, collateral-wheel...cartilage...
wanna be what? chums?
fucking hell...there's a world of sorry's to happen first
before I cosy up to him again, crack a beer, crack a fist...
sure mate, I'd love another one (don't fucken touch me...
both of you)