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letra de control - how strange it is

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a three in the morning, moon is blistering
half wrong
if the last to leave controls the trees
then my legs are branches
bowing down and carrying me home
toward a boring future
over the garden wall

where a stranger bites my fingernails
a passerby that pulls my hair
a store clerk that peruses my face for blemishes
my eyelids for wrinkles
he pulls me out of the mirror and into a world
with less bukowski bullsh-t and more love

cause you have lost control of your body
it’s time to put yourself to bеd

so much for reaching for the phone
your fingеrs tremble tapping slowly
pacing out an ugly stream of fleeting drunk poetic garbage
in there no one wants find out
the things that i don’t know

- how strange it is

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