Tuesday, July 31, 2007


And now the sun is going down
And I’m wishing it would stay a little longer
My hand is holding my head up, and it’s hard to get up
Thinking about the things that I have to get done.

Trying to find somebody to sell my troubles to
There’s got to be somebody for troubles like this
What’s a tired man to do?

I’m watching the ants working hard all day
Carrying their dead far and away
The truth is so clear for those little soldiers
As they go by I keep getting older.

3 comments:

Quitmoanez said...

geniouS!

The meat wheel, let it turn!

Anonymous said...

Yea, good poem!

cara said...

great rythmn and resonance... love it.

sometimes though, you can't even give away your troubles for free.