�
�
�
�
Teeter-tottering on the
ledge
Waiting for the voices to go
to my head
My soul is tunneling through
a straw again
The colors look so pretty in
black light
�
No relation to where the
evening stands
Time is so dangerous for
idle hands
The scars are apparent to no
one but me
Can�t understand now what
other people see
�
Yes, I�m depressing to a
fault
But smiling can be a way of
convincing
This retrograde is driving
me crazy
Won�t you like to talk to
me?
Won�t somebody talk to me?
�
-Copyright �2000�K.�Monge'
�
