Beautiful Lyrics

I had girl I knew she grew became a woman
now I think that she teaches
at one of the schools downtown
we used to roll the windows down
and play the music loud
smoking out in her car
Lost in west Omaha,
and we’d get drunk and kiss
our bodies twist like shoe laces.
And we never came untied;
I guess you were just my type.
You know that summer never stopped.
I still pretend I’m there.
Bands in the living room,
neighbors ain’t never cared.
So when I sat behind the drum set.
Your heartbeat’s what I tried to play.
With kick and snares so careless not in time.
So you got ahead of me.
And I guess I’m still dragging behind.
I had a friend who changed his name
but couldn’t change himself.
Never quite figured out
how to do with what life had dealt.
He put a needle in his arm
to calm his handsome hell.
who would have imagined it?
Could’ve worked out so well.
Now he's a shape that moves
like echoes through my empty room.
And there’s a voice that speaks
like someone’s right behind me.
I turned around and found
exactly what you would expect.
Clothes I left on my floor.
The papers piled on my desk.
But where the ink is
where the cause effect
what’s meant by it
the story is incomplete.
The pictures’ left unfinished.
So I am writing my own ending.
I’ll let my pen bleed black or blue.
And I will color in the meaning.
It will be gold and green and true.
And I’ll learn to love
my new discovered proof.
I’ll be grateful for this day.
I will be grateful for each day to come.

"I Will Be Grateful For This Day"
Bright Eyes

At the Theatre: To the Lady Behind Me by A P Herbert at Old Poetry.

This sums up my sentiments of people who spoil the fun of other viewers in multiplexes.

Add to the list given below people who talk on their mobile phones, people who bring kids who cry in the movies, people who come late and then move all around trying to search for their seats.

At the Theatre: To the Lady Behind Me by A P Herbert at Old Poetry.

Dear Madam, you have seen this play;
I never saw it till today.
You know the details of the plot,
But, let me tell you, I do not.
The author seeks to keep from me
The murderer’s identity,
And you are not a friend of his
If you keep shouting who it is.
The actors in their funny way
Have several funny things to say,
But they do not amuse me more
If you have said them just before;
The merit of the drama lies,
I understand, in some surprise;
But the surprise must now be small
Since you have just foretold it all.
The lady you have brought with you
Is, I infer, a half-wit too,
But I can understand the piece
Without assistance from your niece.
In short, foul woman, it would suit
Me just as well if you were mute;
In fact, to make my meaning plain,
I trust you will not speak again.
And—-may I add one human touch?—-
Don’t breathe upon my neck so much.