Wednesday, March 5, 2014

#20 "The Bottle"

One more day and the bottle held me, one more day and it slipped right through my hands
One more day making sense of nothing, I didn't expect you to understand
10 years wasted in wanting, wanting to be wasted
Broken glass and turkey stained my porch tasted
Don't know how I got here or when, how long has it been
And whose dog is licking my face again
I don't feel sad, like the crying kind, but the air is thick above my head
If I talk to you, just silence, and that's ok, I understand
Not much worth saving here and one more day right through my hands

That crazy woman keeps talking to me, but I've already heard this tale
He's born and then he dies, his mother crys, sounds like he failed
So one more day I press a new a bottle into a shaking hand
One more morning of smelling like a dog again

She won't shut up though, but wait, she's not even here
What's that, so overwhelming, it smells and taste like fear
Who goes there? My voice cracks out a prayer
In that moment, when I least deserved, your power to believe
I could hear the things your servant said, and I could feel you breathe

-Calvin "Cheese Grits" Yerke


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