Shave My Moustache

David Marcouillier

Lyrics:

I’m mining my dreams for traces of fresh information.
Scribbling in notebooks filled with yellowing pages.
The situation is complex and the meanings all keep changing.
She tries but she don’t understand my peculiar demeanor.

Neither morality nor the law of man is ever static.
I still have failed to live up to my end of the bargain.
So many of my dreams, they seem to take place in war zones.
My mind torn asunder by the spurious assumptions of others.

The hardest part of any work of art is getting started.
She was being abstinent and guarded in her allusions.
Please be advised that this phone call is being recorded.
It’s a hard road ahead for the rest of the marginalized werewolves.

You might as well give up yourself to a cold lonesome future.
Start mailing your rent check directly to the Dead Letter Office.
If you get confused just remember to consult with the manual.
Don’t make a sound, I don’t care about what you’re saying.

While I anxiously awaited the return of all of my records
She sad by herself and grinned as she read Sharon Olds.
A gang of awful folk singers performing cacophonous numbers
Hanging out in parks to observe on the bona-fide hipsters.

Please hold the line as your opinions are of utmost importance.
While the skip tracers all lay in wait in the wings of the alleys
I trudged down the sidewalk in my old Dr. Marten’s
For ten thousand years in the lowliest depths of the atmosphere.

Don’t walk away, I’ve got plenty more to tell you.
I never showed up with my class to receive my credential.
None of the candidates has thus far sought my endorsement.
I found fifty dollars in my pocket and set it on fire.

She told me that only that love’s an abandoned museum
Filled with unascertainable numbers of one’s best intentions.
She wanted to make love under stars that looked vaguely electric.
That’s when I grew a mustache, so I’d have something to shave off…

© 2008 David Marcouillier