on Songs for the Sleepless - Mountain Session



these days I feel like I'm your tax declaration, I'm your dentist appointment, I'm the battery in your smoke alarm that you need to change. you're avoiding it, procrastinating every chance of contact that we might have, ain't that a bit strange?
tell me where the blissful days went when I was more than a redundant little trinket on the sideboard of your life, a speck of dust on your floor.
I'd be the needle and the yarn if your heart required mending, be the paperclip when all important documents were lying loose, just turn me into something neccessary, something like a knife or a cup or a bandaid - something you can use. and then tell me where the blissful days went when I could feel more like a gift than than like a burden, more a blessing than a curse, a hope that old scars could heal.
but don't you dare to say I still could change your world for the better and then go and make me feel as useful as a sweat stain on a shirt, as important as the caps lock key when you only type in lower-case letters.