Saturday, September 18, 2010

The Hand That Feeds You

I threw nickles at his cage to better my aim, but all the bars were closed.
I don't suppose I've shown you. I don't suppose I know you.
I gave it my best shot, as I watched him slowly decompose.
I don't suppose I've tried you. I don't suppose you know

Bad love. Better luck next time.
Though I wasn't trying, I fed the lion.
I thought he was a friend of mine.

All the garbage you throw over the fence to his nose may as well be my next feast.
I don't suppose you meant to. I don't suppose I lent you
A self-serving of slop from the local bucket shop to help tame the beast.
I don't suppose you disposed of your clothes after walking the streets, little piggy.

Bad love. Better luck next time.
Though I wasn't trying, I fed the lion.
I thought he was a friend of mine.

Bad love. Better luck next time.
Though I wasn't trying, I ate the lion.
No, he ain't no friend of mine.

Hah hah hah
That's the wrenching sound of bars twisting.
Are you listening as the drenched cloth pulls you in?
How can something so soft be the material that wins?
I must be used to using something that never thins.

- afm

1 comment:

JKR said...

And to think, I thought I was good at deciphering your songs...