Bitter Grasses

© Karyn Ellis

You don’t hear a word I said.
No, you don’t hear a word I said.
I’m banging my head on the bedroom wall.
Like talking to the back of your head.
I’m talking to the back of your head
You’re playing dead, not rolling with this at all.

And every moment that passes here among the bitter grasses
It’s another chance lost to lay a path across and get past this.

You think I’m an ice cream cone.
Yeah, you think I’m an ice cream cone.
You think I’m cold; I won’t leave your head along
Or you think I’m a telephone.
Well, you think I’m a telephone.
You pick me up and put me down,
then you pretend that you’re not home.

And every moment that passes here among the bitter grasses
It’s another chance lost to lay a path across and get past this.

I’m harder than a concrete slab.
I’m hotter than a Cajun dance.
I’m madder than a string of fire ants
And I think that freaks you out!

And every moment that passes here among the bitter grasses
It’s another chance lost to lay a path across and get past this.

You don’t hear a word I said.
No, you don’t hear a word I said.
I’m banging my head on the bedroom wall.
Like talking to the back of your head.
I’m talking to the back of your head.
You’re playing dead, not rolling with this at all

And every moment that passes here among the bitter grasses
It’s another chance lost to lay a path across and get past this.

Back to EVEN THOUGH THE SKY WAS FALLING overview