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bong mountain
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Pariah Carey
I'll either leave this town as a pariah,
Or stay and lose the respect of all my closest friends.
I know I've made excuses for a while. I'm not denying that.
I'm just adjusting to my body getting tired and slow.
These old cycles feel like rope over rafters.
I'm climbing the chair but I'm untying it though.
Two shaky feet on the ground.
One foot in front of the other, right?
I haven't danced in a while
I'm not sure if I remember how to do it.
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Just put your foot to the ground on the downbeat.
And do it over and over again
Until the rope falls slack from the ceiling.
This tangled pile on the floor, from this angle
Looks small and soft and helpless
So I'll wrap it up, lock it up in a box in a drawer with the others. Keep it secret, keep it safe.
But hold your applause.
I've buried that thing a thousand times that I forgot about
But with time & some gauze & a tourniquet
It always finds its way back to the ceiling so tonight I'm fucking burning it.
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