instrumentsWhen you tell me, "I still believe so much it hurts,"instruments by ~JellyGuppy
I look into my mailbox crumbled with dead birds,
and wonder what sets us free what makes us think
what makes us feel, and I don't believe so much.
Were not getting younger and these birds ground-effected
won't grab the blue blue sky, and neither will we.
And the day the sky cried and all the children
screamed don't worry, its just Jesus rocking the boat,
and I laughed because I didn't get it at all.
I thought about the dirty shoes swung up on the telephone wire
by the laces and how they got there once upon a time.
When I thought of the shoes and the birds I thought
of "still standing" and I am not so much a wall flower
as I am a wall seed.
I plucked a feather from each bird in my mailbox
and tried to make a nest of irony, impossible possible.
And it stayed there in my pine tree for the rest of the year.
You told me, "all boys like is girls, cars and guitars,"
and I said that you might like the orchestra, too,
you said, "the orchestr