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Telephone Pole Blues pt. III: Epic
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Early Writings Nine months percale to your life
Forgotten like a boring storybook
Forgotten like a lost expression
On your sympathy date’s make-up face
Received an empty kiss, absorbed a blank smile
Rode a bicycle through your life
Telephone pole, you never know
How hurt you are, receiving empty kisses
Opening empty envelopes
Just to find you’re a regular at her mailbox
You never felt that day
The day you were struck
Oh, telephone pole, you were so cold
That winter night
The night you were struck
Dumbstruck by lightning
Sprouting from the angry sky
You crashed to your ending
Your final bow
Your lamps were finally on at last
Telephone pole, such a tragedy
To speak of in a storyteller gossip
You picnicked by the horizon of hell
That tragic night you crashed, you fell
You kissed your shadow that night
With a clever giggle in his throat
Telling you. He’s a real gentleman
He’ll be a prince, he’ll be your tragedy
In the eyes of your eyes
In the apple core of your heart
The fancies of all fancies
The tears of all tears
We’ll be dumbstruck
By the lightning bolt of truth
Telephone pole of the north
Telephone pole of the last oblivion
Telephone pole of the magician’s secret hat
The woman’s endless carpetbag
Don’t ever forget those nine little months
Nine months before your tragedy’s
Still shady hue
Don’t ever forget me, telephone pole…
