Teeter-tottering on the
ledge
Waiting for the voices to go
to my head
My soul is tunneling through
a straw again
The colors look so pretty in
black light
No relation to where the
evening stands
Time is so dangerous for
idle hands
The scars are apparent to no
one but me
Can’t understand now what
other people see
Yes, I’m depressing to a
fault
But smiling can be a way of
convincing
This retrograde is driving
me crazy
Won’t you like to talk to
me?
Won’t somebody talk to me?
-Copyright ©2000 K. Monge'