Jumping Bomb Angel Correspondance, Coars
So what is it that goes on here really You and I tend to spin our philosophies So intent that the truth that we speak is so pure But it's rife with naivete When I don't draw the line that I tell you That I play with all possibilities Your mom said it best I'm a jack of all trades But a master of nothing at all Today I've become what I am not Unchanged at the very same time >From the girl that you saw in the schoolroom door Now embraced in photographer's lines What can we say that is ours today Adrift in our own worn-out monologues of dreams that could take us so far from this place and the tangents that bring us back home Hard proof or not, I'm existing Unable to fathom my metaphors But as long as my pen's still so legible to read All I ask is that you read on
