Lost, Caught, Tossed, Bruised.
Lost like a butterfly swarming with bees
or a silvery birch in a row of pine trees
a star which fell headlong into the sea
to light up dark ships and their sunken debris
Caught like an afterthought while you were crying
a bird with his wings clipped while he was flying
the look in your eyes when you've just been caught lying
shaking your head with integrity dying
Tossed like a record or a scratchy 8-track
with my plastic all scuffed and my labels peeled back
replaced by blank tapes in a shrink wrapped 6 pack
to be tossed by the compact disc era attack
Bruised like the perfect peach left in the sun
or the knowledge I have that I'm never the one
A soul injury which has quickly spit spun
into losing the war as the battle's begun...
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