Lonely saxophone
My soul is singing like a broken saxophone, A telephone is crying in a room alone. I haven’t seen the street in several days, This fever shakes me in a million ways. They run outside, so careless and so naked, Through concrete fields where all the color faded. They fool themselves, forgetting how it hurts, Distracted by the emptiness of work. Oh, naked and careless… You throw away the questions of the ages. But in this beautiful, insane belief, You’ll find a door where the soul gets relief. We light the fires of moments passing fast, A blind, handless driver hits the gas. We skim the cream, we take the best of life, Suffocating tears with a smile sharp as a knife. Alarm clock… I open my eyes, but I don’t want the day, It feels like Sunday trapped in Monday’s clay. A stranger’s garden, I water it with sweat, While for my own—I just set the alarm to forget. He helps me care for what I’ll never own, While my own seeds remain unknown. I plant the leaves to cover up the scar, I dreamed a beast without a hole—so bizarre… Scratching my forehead… No dry land in sight. A wound is bleeding on the skull of the night. But my soul… is still breathing… Inside this crumpled… temple of a man. Oh, naked and careless… You throw away the questions of the ages. But in this beautiful, insane belief, You’ll find a door where the soul gets relief.
My soul is singing like a broken saxophone, A telephone is crying in a room alone. I haven’t seen the street in several days, This fever shakes me in a million ways. They run outside, so careless and so naked, Through concrete fields where all the color faded. They fool themselves, forgetting how it hurts, Distracted by the emptiness of work. Oh, naked and careless… You throw away the questions of the ages. But in this beautiful, insane belief, You’ll find a door where the soul gets relief. We light the fires of moments passing fast, A blind, handless driver hits the gas. We skim the cream, we take the best of life, Suffocating tears with a smile sharp as a knife. Alarm clock… I open my eyes, but I don’t want the day, It feels like Sunday trapped in Monday’s clay. A stranger’s garden, I water it with sweat, While for my own—I just set the alarm to forget. He helps me care for what I’ll never own, While my own seeds remain unknown. I plant the leaves to cover up the scar, I dreamed a beast without a hole—so bizarre… Scratching my forehead… No dry land in sight. A wound is bleeding on the skull of the night. But my soul… is still breathing… Inside this crumpled… temple of a man. Oh, naked and careless… You throw away the questions of the ages. But in this beautiful, insane belief, You’ll find a door where the soul gets relief.