A Token of the Wreckage

Well, that’s a wrap, was it half bad?

Get me off to bed; I think I’m dying slightly

After a day like that

It always starts out dark, sun started to bark

My head stabs like a fork; nothing much forgiving

About the way that we are

And though I’ve got a heart

Hanging around by the door

I’ve got grace hanging in the mirror

And I got you

I’ve got you

I’ve got you – a little souvenir:

A token of the wreckage

We don’t argue; we’re tired of that too

Spoons clink in our soup

World-weary so young;

It probably means that we’re doomed

You say nothing to me

In return, I forget how to speak

An admission of defeat

We’re fair game for all

Who want a piece of our dreams

And I’ve got a heart

Hanging around by the door

And I’ve got grace hanging in the mirror

And I got you

I’ve got you

I’ve got you – a little souvenir:

A token of the wreckage

I might be inclined to say

You’re quite the quandary

And I keep thinking

Maybe that’s my problem

Just stop thinking.

Jump on it, step on it

Tread on in, stomp on it

Foolish to believe that I can’t be foolish

My head spins, it won’t stop

I wish it would just shut up

Please stop

Please stop

Like I said, I’ve got a heart

Hanging around by the door

I’ve got grace hanging in the mirror

And I’ve got you

I got you

I got you – a little souvenir:

A token of the wreckage.

©2011 Megan Slankard