Alone I stumbled into my abode
No chance to take a dance
Riddled with a magical number
Two straight shots at the prize
Rhythm took the night away
In a solitary game
Asleep the poor man went again
To wake into another day
I keep turning over sideways
You’ve been here on my mind
Not wanting to inhale yet
Memory’s still tacitly strong
Fingers on my lips and
Have I dialed the number wrong?
Won’t take my hand away
Counting each new beating pulsate
Your toxic touch has infatuate
Has taken to my mind
Turning over a new song
That lets me wonder on.
There are leftover bottles
Sitting on a dusty piano
Forgotten in the corner
Singing heartfelt bluegrass
To drunken loners
From playboys and their lovers
Who wore deep pocketed holes
In a beer stained dance floor
That sang hip songs
From an old jukebox
With burnt out numbers
Shuffling in the corner
All night long.
I am a number that’s been picked and then released,
Signed and dotted twice and
Sealed strong with our family crest.
This is destiny in the hands of an entrepreneur,
Folding up the corners and
Wrapping tight the family chest.
Watching lights twinkle in a glimmer of urbanized hope,
Shaking off flood water and
Minding the high level mark.
Without a standard ruling system we are all zeros and ones;
Counting guides and shutting eyes
And a program we just press run.
Whisper to me in silence until rain forever stains.
I want to hear what your heart cannot speak;
I want to let bumps upon my thickened skin
Wash away with lines of another chance.
Wishes of a heart that came and never thence remains.
I can live here for as long as my number remains the same,
Until my idle thoughts formulate
What figures my fingers are much to scared to trace.