Teddy Roosevelt was shot under his heart
Yet he told the crowd mobbing the shooter
To stand back, do not hurt the man
And I like to think that’s what I’m going to do for you
When you shoot an arrow through my chest.
There is ice frozen on my windshield
And every time I play a CD in the cold it skips
Like the tone of your voice
And I wonder what those friends are doing
But then I remember that I don’t really care
Because compassion doesn’t mix well with alcohol
And if I have to sit in another bathroom with pale yellow tiles I think my head will crack
Just like the porcelain seat you slammed your head against
And I’ll fall short of sympathy.
We’ll never find our glory in stained carpets and shaking hands.
I think I’ve started to get wishbones and backbones confused
Because my wishes are buried in the crevices of your spine and now
I hold on to both ends of the wishbone to guarantee success
And maybe that’s why I’m only lucky half the time.
I’ve gotten repetitive repetitive repetitive
And I have gotten faulty with my words
And this is beginning to sound like a tragedy.
Nov 12, 2014
Nov 12, 2014 at 12:50 AM UTC
Teddy Roosevelt was shot under his heart
Yet he told the crowd mobbing the shooter
To stand back, do not hurt the man
And I like to think that’s what I’m going to do for you
When you shoot an arrow through my chest.
There is ice frozen on my windshield
And every time I play a CD in the cold it skips
Like the tone of your voice
And I wonder what those friends are doing
But then I remember that I don’t really care
Because compassion doesn’t mix well with alcohol
And if I have to sit in another bathroom with pale yellow tiles I think my head will crack
Just like the porcelain seat you slammed your head against
And I’ll fall short of sympathy.
We’ll never find our glory in stained carpets and shaking hands.
I think I’ve started to get wishbones and backbones confused
Because my wishes are buried in the crevices of your spine and now
I hold on to both ends of the wishbone to guarantee success
And maybe that’s why I’m only lucky half the time.
I’ve gotten repetitive repetitive repetitive
And I have gotten faulty with my words
And this is beginning to sound like a tragedy.
