Out Here. On My Own.

I picked up the phone and dialed God – but he wouldn’t accept the charges
He didn’t seem to see the necessity in the call – and why during the game
So slipped the phone back into my pocket and ordered another round
Things have changed a lot around here since the old man left
God is too busy and no one cares a lick about history or what it means
My eyes burn too much to read – even the Bellow which comforts me
The covens of lovers who keep their guard up through the night are not for me
I had words for them – ideas to share – but they can’t upset their delicate chaos
So I drift back into the world I am used to – the world out here – on my own
It is like I am on this long vacation only I am not getting any shirts or glass shells
I am getting a heavy heart and stiff neck and a new circle of friends with no history
So I picked up the phone and dialed God one more time – he accepted the charges
We laughed about this and that and the heavy-breasted girl who thought she knew me
He told me not to worry – I would surely die alone – it was out of my control – it is
You are out there – he said – on you own – and I am – yes I am

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