Joyce Carol Oates Is a Boring Old Biddy - The Lawrence Arms

A broken record has a thousand answers

To constant contradictions

Your condition

Is flooding through the streets again

Now you’ve drained your thoughts onto an empty page

With ink as red as blood

Some words were never meant to be

I call this talking to myself

I drew a picture to remind me

Of what you look like when it’s raining

You use a lot of heavy words that never get you anywhere

They’re circumbout and cycling

Another year has lived and died in blue tangled phone lines

The frequency is frightening

Thirteen lucky numbers dialed

To hear a stranger’s voice crying

Now you’ve drained your thoughts onto an empty page

With ink as red as blood

Some words were never meant to be

Feels like I’m talking to myself

Figure eight

Grind your silver blades

Icy eyes

Have you seen the midnight skies?

Wipe the sleep from your rusting eyes

Fill this room with superstitious smiles, a chorus of our lies

Wipe the sleep from your rusting eyes

I want you to see me for the first time

You’re glaring, you’re glaring

Jagged lips

I’m dying, I’m dying

To taste your icy eyes

You’re glaring, you’re glaring

Jagged lips

I’m dying, I’m dying

To taste your icy eyes

Figure eight

Your style is better than your skate

Icy eyes

Can you see through my disguise?

Figure eight

Save a sour twist of fate

Jagged lips

You’re glaring, glaring with icy eyes