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A Better Part

from Our Drawing Club by Quaker Parents

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lyrics

Who knows a better part for this, taking on the night? sure they say there’s room to strive, like I am in bathed in golden light for years I groan in my cul-de-soul; for a Better Part of This I make a brand new start I just take off like a plane - Run around the möbius strip of life, take on many names and I stood the old director’s chairs in there, the tedious, three, four and five configuration.. I lay my mind afloat and hopefully answers come like small flecks, bright paint splatters, splashed out just right I won’t be the one lays awake to fight with no-will defining known-grudges those I stack them up to spend a few moments in a steam-room, take my new pants off of my thighs, a moment of a peace don’t survive long; like waking up or a lay on the sand with stranger's hand in my palm both times I was semi-clothed oh right, in my file I'm more chaste-typical, but i felt spared on the stretched out fabric. I could count minutes in my young life, see them grow lately I’ve been cutthroat but i might try to be more apropos to back then though I'll maybe quit booze like the cold tea rooms try to crush spite when it kinda looms so that i can love practically every time that one will fight back to back with me oh who's there? can’t tell, I see a strike when you see my face-melt though I sing in my true voice baby I can lie like the ring of a bell and you know it works once once, like a movie but then left with myself and my mystery and there’s no real art on the camera, there's no fair working dilemma I could build like a well known hideout and just think of the things you could think about but i wilt like the plant that died, so i work so i feel some pride see a mother fold her hands around the photo snow-globe see a mother's face hang low and then extrapolate a meaningful glow and i can still miss both or not then when I feel my dissent away from family matters feel my old senses scattered seemingly shattered prematurely battered fight with your sister in the train station tell me about your latest frustration treat it like a lamp that breaks a minute in dark place what do you do about that? what you do is you go you get up, draw you a face in the window that's frosted?
I don't see it...
(like the criminal's crime, it's my pivotal time and it's going faster than I'd ever thought)
Who know’s a better part for this?
taking on the night sure say there’s room to strive like i'm paid in golden light for years i groan in my cul-de-soul for a better part of this

credits

from Our Drawing Club, released May 10, 2019

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Quaker Parents Toronto, Ontario

song-wormhole project

HALIFAX, NOVA SCOTIA

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markagrundy @ gmail .com

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