the record scratches and the music stops
stretching up to the very top
of the bureau, I look for something to clean it with
so that the sound of synths
and the moody crooner
singing songs of love and desire may sooner
caress our ears with no fears
of what the coming days will bring
but man's first sin, well that's quite a funny thing
to blame Eve when Adam was just as culpable
there's no rag in sight and the dusty silence is pulpable-
was that what they heard when all was said and done?
when night was coming on and they were left with no sun?
it's a wonder they made it through that fateful night
while I, blundering through the room in the soft hazy light,
wander fruitlessly for answers and some kind of towel
did they hide in the quiet or did they howl?
knowing what they knew and with only a few,
moments to languish in Eden before bidding adieu
and leave forever, having once lived in paradise
did their departure leave them feeling cold as ice?
whatever the reality the outcome is known
a lifetime of misery, together they had sewn
and just when all hope was given up
and my patience had had more than enough,
there was a cloth in the back of some,
long-forgotten drawer and now the hum
of the singer and his lonely trumpets
drown out the half-baked thoughts and frets
of a mind always racing through useless places
and we sink back to oblivion, imagining the faces
we'll put on tomorrow to go through the paces