If only you knew what these eyes have sown,
from trust that was planted only suspicion grew.
But this malnourished foundation only aids surmise,
which only leads to bad apples, hard feelings, mold and flies.
YET HERE WE FIND OURSELVES!
Trekking across spoiled land breathing in each others polluted words,
pruning our own sour makeup tale, told too short broken into three or four thirds.
Always ending with a kiss on the forehead and a tongue in cheek.
As I seek refuge and advice on those old broken roads with Mick and Keith.
Because I, alone, know,
that within those old songs rest moments of truth and indiscretion,
that a woman’s definition of love, can become a mans definition of depression.
But life never gave me lemons, but it’s sure giving me the blues,
And if I’ve learned something,
It’s that you’ve got to scrape that shit right off your shoes.
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