My Words, Your Wall (Millard)

They drove you around,
the toast of the town,
the ghost with the most.
(Now you are toast.)
I burn up time;
walk the line; lack for wine.
"Bird lives," I scrawl.
My words. Your wall.

I'll write what someone wrote a million times.
I don't expect you'll care about the rhymes.

Below the Beltway you'd go
...if there's anything that low...
tenth circle of Hell!
(I heard you fell.)
You'd swim with the sharks
those teeth leave marks
your angle's so acute
so why not shoot?

This parallel position tricks the brain.
I still can't tell which one's the moving train.
She pulls out from the station with a jerk.
I tell myself, "this ain't a-gonna work."

You rose so high; climb on out, taste the sky.
I watch you on the ledge, seduced by the edge.
Spectacular crash! No cushion of cash.
No problem at all.
My words. Your wall.

I won't exactly say I like the view,
but I can't claim indifference to you,
who saw my game as desperate and strange
now your tin cup can rattle for a change
your psychodramas never were my scene
I need my dose of Psychodramamine^TM
there's turbulence and shrapnel in the air
some parachutes aren't big enough to share
but polished paranoia built for two
I wouldn't wish for anyone but you

All songs © 2009 SHANGHAI LOVE MOTEL