Comedy Horn

choking my lips i won't take the change too hard, if you want we'll end it all with a phone call...
dreading every last fight, you speed off, move on...it's a worn out war, sound the comedy horn.
i stopped freezing once, it got so cold, bones were breaking, even organs slowed...
still i want to agree, the test has melted me, and the recipe is flawed...
yes, it seems, the rain has stopped moving, and it's settled (straight) over us.
the plate in my hip kept me from swiveling off, with the body of an 80 yr old i'll, make the finish strong, fresh faced with smiles, and that's the strangest dream of all...

their relief's below
the injured retreat
and their bumps swell up
you can't lure anyone
just go and talk to all those beasts
they'll tell which road you're on

lights will change...traffic will slow...stop grinding my gears, together we speed off
afraid to turn, the straightest curves, turns and curves they cover the earth
rejected molds...rejected love...reject them both but the rejection's old

the relief's below
injuries repeat
and their cuts fell off
still you can't lure anyone
talk about to all those beasts
they'll tell you that the road, is it is gone

cheers often, they surprise
enjoy the voluble, react, give a reply

first off, when we don't talk, that's a gift to you, what's wrong
are you cursed at birth, the family swallows, as they drag behind
when all your weapons broke, you saw what worked, and it was so much harder (when you were mine)