I've always said **** the circus
Cheap theatrics and easy money
I see I'm a few feet out on a tightrope, that's my job
Ironic, unfortunately

Somebody laid a few pillows out on this side
I appreciate the concern but I'm a professional
The net on that side is a failsafe
That we usually use, it is used
You really need to know how to fall

Need not apply, we work for peanuts
You know, cheap money and easy theatrics
So it goes, being within being without

But if you brought the pillows
And if you like the peanuts
Stick around, who knows
You just might enjoy the show

I bought nostalgia a drink
Realizing I was sober
Never felt a feeling
A feeling less than feeling nobler
Without losing perspective
Perceiving what I could
Little less than nothing
Worthless wet wood

I am strung out
Strung together run on sentence
Ran through the old adages
Like 'don't be a menace'
Lucky Irish post penance
You're like pulling teeth
Sans dentist

There's a mirror in the water
The bathroom sink is *****
The conversations weak
And the dialogue is wordy
Granted that the guilt is stubborn
Shared by you and shared by me
Universal, lovely

Look past the grey hairs
That add a silver lining to your stare
And trace the lines on my face
Sometimes we aren't getting any older
We just warm up to the smolder
Sometimes this place feels misplaced

Sometimes we're dreaming together
With each other, whatever
Forever in ashes and grins
Then there's a pause in reaction
So go the laws of attraction
An eruption, of sorts, at wit's end

This feeling's a force of nature
Without nomenclature
We're melting in hot city rain
Hot as a tin roof
Dryer than vermouth
These are feelings we both entertain

Shaved by the metal of the red moonlight
Everybody's on the run on a doomsday night
Pompeii's for lovers, that's what we heard 'em say

Something about a heart served with a twist of lemon
Neat.
She wouldn't care for it.
In lieu of that, there'd be something else, sweet.

She said people used to be proud of where she's from.
Continues.
She makes sounds like her mother, she says.
I haven't met her yet.  

Conversation makes way as a live band does through a cracked window.
Disheveled.
And I've seen that tattoo before.
It's a one-hit wonder.

She wears so many bracelets they laugh in a tambourine's voice.
Typical.
Considered leaving this stamp on my hand from last night.
Well, now I'm a pop song too.

The time we grant each other is like that of a  
   syndicated movie
Not that anyone is watching
Might catch the end of it
For old time sake

   It's no mystery why there's this feeling on a
   Tuesday
Just like any other day
It all runs together
A watermark on a watercolor

    And with the way things are going who    
    knows
I might find a way out
If it pans out
If my luck doesn't
Doesn't run out

    So on that note I might see you at next years
    ball
Maybe watch it drop
Maybe midnight
Maybe I won't drop the ball

There is nothing more than the lights of this town left in this night
The most beautiful thing about it is that none of the lights are blue

Nothing flashes blue
Witless neon stands subdued
Hidden like a silent *****

Just when you think you're in the eye
The storm comes out of the blue.

Now that February days leave sweat on a          
    glass
Weather mixes me up
Like a stiff drink
Let the ice melt
Let the ring on the table condensate
And condescend me
Plain as a paper towel
Just read in between the vowels

Jeff said
I wish I was dirt
I'd wait on the spills and the the cigarette butts
Doubt very much it would hurt
From the bounce of the glass
Or the filter, for better or worse

He said it's easy to soak up stories
If you're laying on the ground

And he said
No clocks or unrequited work
It'd just be me, I'm the dirt
I let you walk all over me anyway
So let me enjoy it