Some day’s the wheel goes round, and I look at the paper and sigh with relief, for part of me is tattered in G-Ds harmony. A bereaved melody that fell inside me became me, while the universe played a different song. Part of me, looks to see, what syllable will make me feel my home, a rare key, six to three, when every element, emotional, makes me bleed. Beside me, a world is free, but not in me, the only place these lyrics seem to belong. What do you see, when all those sounds come out so wrong, is it me that played inside me so long. Converge on me majesty, something misunderstood in melody, counting the breaths around me, I never wrote that song.
Descant in methodical math, a place to hide when I discern the worlds black wrath. This place in rhyme alone, when the sound of words alone leave my spirit ticking. A place on one knee beneath the branch of a crooked tree, where questions call to know what’s inside. A cold, a destiny beneath an alcoholic freeze, words, that fall like lightning, without a need. My paper’s ready, crying, daemons rising, it’s part of me, accommodation of something wrong. When I’m sad, a shell that displays my terrible wrong, a chant hopelessly internally, intuits to me, and there I freeze, I never wrote that song.
Line in air of pitch that speaks liquid harmony, a part of me that tears me, sometimes off key, a place of charmed gone wrong. Voices living, inside me pointlessly, still determinedly, I deliver lyrics that sing my song. Could it be, antiphonally, unnaturally in destiny, some old music stayed inside me too long. No matter, I’ll gather paper, and out of range I’ll become something that no one believes, and when in character they come to see, I’ll deliver, but in all that carnage that stayed inside me so long, please believe, I never wrote that song.
“I Never Wrote That Song” inspired by that rascal Alice Cooper, “I Never Wrote Those Songs” from Lace & Whiskey. – 05.19.2014 – דָּנִיֵּאל