Sara
holden lyric
Editor-in-chief of Paper Plane Pilot Publishing www.thepaperplanepilots.com
[instrumental break]
one
two
one
twothreefour
put your hands in the air
sing it with me
let me hear you
rock me, joe
na na na na
here we go
uh huh
c’mon
give it to me
ow
mmmm hmmmm
don’t hurt ‘em now
pick it up pick it up
break it down
take it away
make me cry
black spots
i can’t write another poem about a ceiling fan
or the way it rocks back and forth and people
worry about its health and that one day it
will just fall down and break because it dared
to keep spinning
brain traffic
exit signs and satellites i don’t know where we’re going or who’s watching or why i’m even inclined to know when some days all i want to do is place bets on something i don’t understand and wait to see what happens but the satellites roam and there is no corner of the earth where i can exist without anybody knowing there is no safe house or bomb shelter secret corridor hogwarts or atlantis what you see is what you are come closer clear a space coming through honk honk the number you have dialed is currently unavailable for english press one do not walk no smoking no loitering buffering battery low empty
out of fashion
you put on your white socks
and commented on how ugly
they are and i realized nobody
likes white anymore. it’s way out
of fashion.
measured
i just can’t let go of the teeter totters the times when they were out of balance because you left and i flew to the ground because even gravity doesn’t know what to do without you for a moment in time you balance me and the weight of the world is alright