Three Days to Monday
EvilToasterElf
Posts: 1,119
A young paper pusher stares out
the twentieth story window of his office
From here the people on the street
have gained anonymity, but each
still distinguish by their particular stride
He spends time at this window
to gain insight somehow from the chaos
The momentum of his life has reached
that of a cow
Tip-toeing past the slaughterhouse
to the ravine at the edge of the farm
Some unspoken instinct favors
silent rock over bright steel
His office is a house of static
His conversations are background noise
The loudest sounds are unspoken words
tossed around his mind with the precision
of a tornado hurling debris
He could leave, lands one piece of clutter
But what good would that do?
The same shiftlessness would follow him
He could start lurking around bars
find a girl
But that pleasure always left him distant
speaking through tin cans attached to a string
He feels like a moth
that has come out of the rain into a mansion
but still beats his head into the windows
trying to escape
He allows himself a sidelong glance wondering
how many of those cubicles were filled with the
same thoughts about birth
His boss tells hime
"Well it's finally friday"
Though the only thought that conjures is
Three days to Monday
the twentieth story window of his office
From here the people on the street
have gained anonymity, but each
still distinguish by their particular stride
He spends time at this window
to gain insight somehow from the chaos
The momentum of his life has reached
that of a cow
Tip-toeing past the slaughterhouse
to the ravine at the edge of the farm
Some unspoken instinct favors
silent rock over bright steel
His office is a house of static
His conversations are background noise
The loudest sounds are unspoken words
tossed around his mind with the precision
of a tornado hurling debris
He could leave, lands one piece of clutter
But what good would that do?
The same shiftlessness would follow him
He could start lurking around bars
find a girl
But that pleasure always left him distant
speaking through tin cans attached to a string
He feels like a moth
that has come out of the rain into a mansion
but still beats his head into the windows
trying to escape
He allows himself a sidelong glance wondering
how many of those cubicles were filled with the
same thoughts about birth
His boss tells hime
"Well it's finally friday"
Though the only thought that conjures is
Three days to Monday
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~~its better to be hated for who you are than be loved for who you are not~~
F.ZAPPA
Juste sur la cime
Depuis la cime de la montagne
La vue est magnifique
Tous les matins je marche jusqu'à la falaise
Et je jette des petites choses
Genre débris de voiture,
Bouteilles et couverts
Ou tout ce que je trouve par terre
C'est devenu une habitude
Une façon de commencer la journée
(refrain)
J'accomplis tout ça
Avant ton réveil
Pour me sentir encore plus heureuse
D'être en sécurité ici avec toi
Très tôt le matin
Personne n'est réveillé
De retour à ma falaise
Je jette encore des petites choses
J'écoute le bruit qu'elles font dans leur chute
Je les suis des yeux jusqu'à
Ce qu'elles s'écrasent au sol
J'imagine le bruit que ferait mon corps
En claquant contre ces rochers
Quand il touchera le sol
Mes yeux seront-ils
Ouverts ou fermés ?
(refrain)
and her funny, foreign words
QUITE
whack