Wednesday, February 11, 2015

2.1380 : 2/11/09 : Catching

It must be a kind of virus
it must be catching
no matter what I do it comes to this
more desperate last minute scratching
Got no bootstraps, got no boots
got no strength in my arms
I’ve got a way of saying the wrong thing
and you are immune to my charms
I’ve got no real hope of real change
it’s always something too important to wait
We’ll get to that as soon as things settle
provided I don’t snap at the bait
but I’m not going to leave it lying
I am going to get up fierce and fine
and soldier through one more aftermath
and struggle up one more steep incline

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