Joyce Carol Oates Is a Boring Old Biddy

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
The circumfile needs 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