Brighton Ma Graceland '02
They say I must be able to understand you,
To admit that you belong,
And to that which you give your youth guides,
Your sense of right and wrong.
I see our senses are misguided,
And that we can mishandle our lives,
And the lightness we all have inside
Can weigh heavy on the mind,
And weigh us down continuously,
Till we’re left tired and misplaced,
Left wandering like Graceland’s king
And his longing to fall from grace.
I hear you’re not doing to well these days,
You’re sick of thinking so you just coast.
You’re going to kill yourself slowly,
And play the gracious host.
Saying you want to repaint the past each night,
In a white light that shines like gold,
To sugar-coat your insides,
All the secrets gone untold,
And make us all poets,
Dreamers with only time to face,
You’ve built yourself a Graceland,
I’ve watched you fall from grace.
I see you on the street sometimes,
Your eyes wide at all they see,
That pass through these generations,
Rolling on with such ease.
It seems at times I have seen you,
Stare through swollen eyes and lost leaves,
You’re observing lying vanity,
And forsaking your own mercy,
I keep thinking you’ll come around one day,
And I’ll stare into that old face,
That doesn’t have a Graceland,
And never fell from grace.
