Drones in the basement
Pace my patience
Tone misplacement grates my nerves and shakes them
Tales of mundanity
Testing my sanity
No end game or refrain or respite for my brain
These words contain no content
Just hellbent on holding tractor beams with your lament
While my polite lament suppressed by yours
You may as well be keeping one hand pressed up on the door
And what for?
Squitting oral while you have the opportunity
Live a solitary life and now you take it out on me
You’re monotone, homophone, baritone can’t condone
This is getting to me
This is getting to me
This is getting to me and you’re a drone
This is getting to me wish I was stoned
But not with you moaning I should’ve stayed at home
But no escape, nowhere to go
No more excuses I know to say
That I haven’t said before
Just zone into your face praying there’s no more
But there’s always more
The room around the outline of your face contracts and contorts
The throbbing of your boat balloons and then it’s small
Had three month holidays shorter than your talks
Had three teeth out and now I’m begging for four
Not just my heart that sinks when I notice you
Hopes and dreams and my mood is through
You put my head in a vice
And offer no humour, inspiration or advice
You just drone
And drone
And drone
And drone
And drone

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s