American Gothic

Copyright ©1995 Spocks Johnson

Sipping tea, flirting with reasons
Look out the window like an accusation
A sweet irrelevance, to avoid the question
I guess I didn’t catch what you said

Wait, let me explain
Years passed ... and I’m sorry now
All these things I should regret
Wrapped in my paper box
Hidden in the cabinet

The sky is red and the sun is gone
The kitchen’s quiet and the lights are low
And what to say when no one’s won?
Till death do us part, there’s nowhere to go

Indiscretions I never thought you’d catch
Offer assurances to your eyes of glass
On the patio, you pluck at the ivy
And cast the leaves down to the bricks in the grass

Wait, it’s a mistake
Years passed, and they shouldn’t have
Now just these things that I regret
Wrapped in my paper box
Rotting in the cabinet

The clouds are bloody and hanging low
You add another brick in this wall
The clock keeps ticking on and on


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