I've always wondered when my inkwell would run dry.
Lyrics
I envision a living; she’s got me into the rhythm
Of sieving my past life of intimate women,
So my sins are forgiven, and I’m cleansed of my feelings.
The wind blows and my pen lid is dripping,
There’s so much ink yet I’m I thinking of quitting,
Because my problems seem as timid as linen, and I’d be sickened to be them.
I used to drink ‘till my system was thinning,
I used to blink and a tear had arisen, as i’d misuse my wisdom
Called myself a writer because my issues were winning.
There’s no tissues to rescue the bleeding,
I’ve got a chest full of grievance, and a cheque book worth stealing
So you could document my women, look at how I achieved them.
There’s no kiss too appealing, but she’s got a heart of gold
And I’m partly sold to a feeling I used to hardly know –
I’d plant the seed and weeds would start to grow, and low behold -
Apart and blown my soul was thrown to pavements trodden
But yesterday’s forgotten, so I pray so solemn, to attain her jotting –
Columns of my life on some paper sodden.
I guess that nature’s calling, ‘cause my fate has fallen to berate my sobbing
So I put the pen down, almost baiting pardons.
Now all that’s left to do is embrace the parting cause’,
All that’s left to do is embrace the parting cause’,
All my stress is used, and you’ve enslaved my problems.
