A Collection Of Recordings

(album: The Tragedian's Decoupage - 2011)

I have this recurring thought of getting a revolver
And placing one bullet in the chamber as an offer
To fate, or a challenge, like "Here's my pound of flesh
Take if my purpose is in death"
Then I'd record it, so you could hear fate's response
I'd either "bang" drop or "click" breath hard
'Cause, you know, philosophies only go so far
It's words, words, words then tomorrow we're forgotten

"The world is very different now"
"The ballet or the bullet explains itself"
"Only when it is dark enough can you see the stars"

"I heard shots. And, I saw people crawling on the floor"
"The apostle of non-violence and the civil rights movement"
"He brought to the white house the vigor of youth"
"The bullet exploded in his face"

"... and I heard my husband say, everything is alright
Everything is alright"