redesign (once yours)

baby's on the phone again

producin' a seducin' scheme.

if you could see how he treats me,

how his boldness beats me down,

it's some poor soul's unfortunate dream

(but none of mine).

you can't make substance out of air:

(it's obvious when there's nothing there).

you can't make substance out of air

and he can't take back his words.

baby's gone home.

he's grey when he's alone --

i throw away all i've heard.

it is a feeling so absurd

(to feel as if you're never heard).

and then i'd be so much less inspired

after the fight, the fake-out and the fall.

i suggest to his heart

as my own stops with a start --

what if i mean nothing at all?

to mean nothing in the world at all

to the one person in the world who means something --

(what, if i gave to the game,

would i expect your heart to deliver?).

baby's on the phone again

and i'm all out of sense.

this makes me want to know

if i should stay or i should go

repaint the white picket fence.

a dream's redesign,

once yours, now only

mine.

07.2011