The Wall Between Us

It's a song. Either sang in a slow, meandering way or with full Ditto-powered funk force. A reflection on this past weekend, which in itself is a reflection of the past 7 years.

The Wall Between Us

If only this wall that stands between us was not just one of many other walls
that I've buit from machinations and different schemes designed to snatch your heart and mind, and all.
6-inch of brick may not seem that thick, but I doubt a finger-click will make them tumble and fall.
So I lie against this wall between us wondering if I ever really stood a chance at all.

Well I've never seen a specimen of beauty run so true down to its very core.
Fat or thin, I'd still sing, all your praises then begin again until my throat was desert dry and red raw.
And I'm screwed at what to do 'bout other women 'cause to you they simply don't compare at all.
And as a beggar, not a chooser, I'm the damndest of the losers digging deeper holes than any mole in history before.

The course of true/ love ain't smooth/ but this is no small bump in the groove. I'm staring at a skyscraper tall...
...enough for mine eyes/ to think twice/ about pursuing such a prize/ even though it's one I can scarcely ignore.

So I suppose I have to see where this leaves me honey, but I'll chance my arm and hazard a guess.
I can ill-afford the cost to my pride an' I've money on the odds that I have so little o' that left.
I keep hoping and a-praying in the rhetoric and sayings about the abundance of fish at various depths.
And God knows if I'm lucky, I'll stop reeling in the guppies, but 'til then I better tend to mending my nets.


No fish or moles were harmed in the writing of this song...

Metal Monkey: Proust, but with a tissue-paper thin lexicon.