Pressed In A Book

Doted on like seeds planted in rows

The untied shoelaces of you life

Nutured all year then presssed in a book

Or displayed in bad taste at the table

Problems arise and you fan the fire

While there's a wild pack of dogs loose in your house tonight.

Cut from bad cloth or soiled like socks

Add it up and basically people never change.

They just talk and make plans in the dark

Or make haste with ideas that can't help

But creep good people out

As you talk to me too much you're assuming

We don't always want what's right.

Did i strike the right set of chords? you're annoyed.

The goal is to ignite you then move on.

You feel ill at ease. you got no squeeze.

And the wise cracks won't make you more stable.

You've learned you lines to scale and to time.

Why must i remind you now i'm only less able.

Cut from bad cloth or soiled like socks

We're ordinary people we can't help but to change

As we walk and make plans in the dark

Or make haste with the boy who can't help

But creep good people out.

As you talk to me too much you're assuming

We don't always want what's right.

Two fallen saplings in an open field.

Snow padding gently on an empty bench.

An old woman's jewelry lying unadorned.

Colo nesting robins allied for the first time.

I know when you hear these sappy lines

You'll roll your eyes and say "nice try".