Broken Wings

Wrong place, wrong time
Wrong person, again
On the outside lookin' in
«Gertrude, when sorrows come
They come not single spies
But in battalions!» (Hamlet IV 5)
Bite my tongue, muffle the song
Of «everything is wrong»
Try to disconnect
Keep reality in check
Balled fist, wistful glance, lost chance
Take my hand and join the dance, and i bet
We won’t go down just yet
Though we may be reduced to ghosts
There’s more in us than most
A bit depressed
And stressed i guess
I’m a fucking mess
But don’t mind me and don’t mind this
I’m just wired thus
Constantly running for the bus
Across a three-lane broadway
And the overhead display says:
«Nah, fuck you.» Well fuck you too!
I may fray at the edges
Or so memory alleges…
But y’all ever seen a loser
Once scared to rock the boat
Turn into a bulldozer
Shovel your words back down your throat?
Take no note of these broken wings:
This bird don’t need them to fly
'Cause she’s got a rocket engine
And the ignition’s on fire!