Song for David

David didn’t finish his verse
Hemingway didn’t touch his breakfast
And even I don’t want to be fifty two
Directing kids in a play called No Exit

No, I don’t want to be thirty one
Obsessed with money
How much and where I'm getting it
You know that I was raised on cheap cigarettes
And when it rains I always let it

Splashing in puddles on my pillow
Singing words that David twists into rhyme
Can he see what he means to the people like me?
Do you see at all from the other side?

I never knew what I was looking for
But I know all my favorite places to hide
Now no one is asking
So I’ll say it again
Before I wander all through the night
(I wanna wonder through the night)

I know it’s dark and I know it’s cold
I know that beyond means on the other side
But if you can still hear me
If you can still feel things
Things don’t got to feel alright

Some days I like to feel nothing
I believe that nothing likes to feel me too
I chased a junk wax era MacGuffin
All the way down Rue Morgue Avenue

I meant to ask the painter what that matter was
Why is the sky always looking so blue?
Well Steve picked up a brush
And just scratched her head
In the way only an artist would do
(In the way only an artist could do)

We never settled the argument
Over who gets to explain hurt to who
But I risked becoming some embodiment
Of sweet content when I would listen to you

I can’t blame anyone for having enough
They turned brokenness into a career
Like the largest shard in a pile of broken glass
Poses the bottle as an idea
(Now it's just an idea)

I know it’s dark and I know it’s cold
Well I know the black road is a river in Crimea
But if you can still hear me
If you can still keep moving
Things don’t got to end right here
Oh no, things don't got to end right here

Things don't got to feel alright
Oh no, things don't got to feel alright