This paper’s too good for these words
For these words are a coward’s escape
From the creatures laid hollow by birds and betrayed by the fireworks down on the cape.
And these words are too good for my mind
For my mind is a yellowing hue
I recall only times when these meaningless rhymes could still bring recollection of you.
And my mind is too good for myself
For my selfish dark tenant within
Well, I’d say that I wish that I’d stayed a day more, but the staying was doing me in.
And my self is too good for my god
For my god is an odd little one
I should keep his wings clipped and the talons declawed, but dear, that would be having no fun.
And I could spend all my life on this letter goodbye
But I’d be rude to presume what I’m saying is new
And the more that I try just to tell you a lie
All the harder it is to deny.
Well I picture you reading this now
With your feet in that shallowing foam
Can you dare just to stand in the beckoning sand as it calls all its scavengers home?
And I know what you think I will say
That I’m seeking some pardon in you
Well I’m sorry to rain on your sunny parade, but dear, sorry’s not something I do.
I could spend all my life on this letter goodbye
But I’d be rude to presume what I’m saying is new
And the more that I try just to tell you a lie
All the harder it is to deny.
Well I can’t make it any more plain
That this poem is not worth your time
Don’t you try to explain all the twists in my brain, cause dear, I’m just a picturebook rhyme.
And I probably look like a fool
Even putting this pick to a string
But you’ve traded your youth for a gambler’s truth, when I’d settle for something to sing.
I could spend all my life on this letter goodbye
But I’d be rude to presume what I’m saying is new
And the more that I try just to tell you a lie
All the harder it is to deny.