04-17-2013, 11:27 AM
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it's quiet and it's sunny
the whiskeys sit in ease.
the little things are funny
she can't whistle but she sings.
the garden crawls with critters
the suburb slowing down
so calm it gives her jitters;
she's bright as a little pink crayon
but conversations elsewhere grow
the stake are high
and words are thrown
but verbalizing all these things
is the least of what the evening brings.
he throws a plate, rolls up his cuffs
it's done but yet it's not enough
the damage moves across the room
into the arms where conflict looms.
this other girl, she knows it's bound
she runs away and screams so loud
for all the things she said so mean
her body will be brown and green.
Little crayon can't stand the thought;
she makes her move like a meddling fox
He looks at her in disbelief--
an expression forged of shock and grief
and little crayon is thrown aside
like a tumbling shell in the Florida tide
and suddenly at his angry whim,
she loses breath and her sight goes dim.
It all caves in. It turns to black.
and he laughs at it all! A haughty attack
After all of the dark she runs out to the sun
but it's not so bright and she just feels numb.
It's quiet and it's dark
the whiskey's drained
their thoughts enslaved
his violence tamed
but the problem unnamed
the little things aren't funny
she can't whistle and she can't even talk
it's quiet and it's sunny
the whiskeys sit in ease.
the little things are funny
she can't whistle but she sings.
the garden crawls with critters
the suburb slowing down
so calm it gives her jitters;
she's bright as a little pink crayon
but conversations elsewhere grow
the stake are high
and words are thrown
but verbalizing all these things
is the least of what the evening brings.
he throws a plate, rolls up his cuffs
it's done but yet it's not enough
the damage moves across the room
into the arms where conflict looms.
this other girl, she knows it's bound
she runs away and screams so loud
for all the things she said so mean
her body will be brown and green.
Little crayon can't stand the thought;
she makes her move like a meddling fox
He looks at her in disbelief--
an expression forged of shock and grief
and little crayon is thrown aside
like a tumbling shell in the Florida tide
and suddenly at his angry whim,
she loses breath and her sight goes dim.
It all caves in. It turns to black.
and he laughs at it all! A haughty attack
After all of the dark she runs out to the sun
but it's not so bright and she just feels numb.
It's quiet and it's dark
the whiskey's drained
their thoughts enslaved
his violence tamed
but the problem unnamed
the little things aren't funny
she can't whistle and she can't even talk