Cought Digging Up the Past
It's a pity the good memories of my father are inside
Because the past's an open hole in the garden of life
So I'm digging in mine, tryna trigger what gets hidden
It's a littered sewer system like a river of dead kittens
The lower I break; discarded wishes all over the place
It's as if all that I've done's become disposable waste
Deeper still I notice a face, recall a relationship lost
I'd give the face a quick wash because it's faded with fog
I'd have taken a cloth, removed dirt from her features
See we climb futures when what's certain's beneath us
Friends turn into creatures we've long since forgotten
So was the beginning of life really a bomb at the bottom
If this thick swamp wasn't a problem, I'd clear my past
But time only makes it harder to tear through the trash
Buried in the back pages of history I might hit repeat
That's if I get that deep, so for now I'll just shift the peat
Lifting each shovel full of rubble uncovers another skull
Stuck in a puddle, the fabric of time's like a subtle wool..
Over your eyes as it cuddles you. I'm trudging through
No surprises, in a direction where there's nothing new
But the depth I took it to improved my masterpiece drastically
My own memory washed clear as water and it captured me
I saw the past of me, pure, caught in chronological order
And I recalled the beauty of this police officers daughter
Obviously lost by the author of a fairy tale more remote
So I stop digging, wishing my pencil could draw her close
Now I can pause a pose, or position her around the room
But photographic memory won't prevent the impending doom
She hasn't found her groom, she's strewn by the wayside
But memories can be profoundly rude if you dig at a grave site ..
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