The Monologue Bombs - Randal Lloyd Comes Home

O mother, the screen and the pixels
I fear that they have eaten into the whites of my eyes
O mother, the carpals and the tunnels
The crack and the clack of the subway
I fear that they poisoned my insides
It was such a luxurious skyline I saw the first time
When I met a Cobble Hill gypsy
All scarves and the scent of Europa
But she’d come from Urbana, burning
Like the dive bar candle between us
And I fell fathoms deep
Into the waters of her blue, blotted eyes
We’d get high in the rooms with the vodka
'Til the player piano would waltz us out ‘cross Central Park
And in the traffic and the towers of granite
We’d spitball our dreams and desires
And laugh as we counted the bridge lights
Never noticing the tide coming in greasy and dark
O mother, my heart’s swollen with toxins
Infected with love and its lacking
If that futon is still in the basement
All I need is a key to the side door
I promise I won’t make a sound
As I dream of that diseased city
Its canyons all splitting and screaming and swallowing me down

Written by:
Scott Phillips

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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