Grand Monkey

Words are like lemmings, jumping in and out of my ears, from song to song, all it takes for the line to break is your voice. It scares them, off they go, back up their trees.

I try to write, try to banish the haze, but the sunset outside is you, calling to tell me you're sick, I miss you, it would do wonders for me just to see you.

So, I catch the lemmings, pierce the sun. It's only an overcooked egg, one stab of an other's fork and I'll have eaten you up again. Digested, churned out with yesterday's love.

I'll let you go. By 8'o clock, I'll have to let you go.