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Organs

You’re picking up another one
From the drift store down Albany Lane
And though it seems like such a chore
You’ll do it over again all the same

You don’t want to tell him
Prefer to conceal rather than disappoint
The underlying feeling is of tension
That you cannot avoid

-

You’ve got a golden heart
But it’s turned cold
Reckless passion is left to decay like disease
When you grow old
And it’s all forgotten
The Alzheimer’s shrivels up your memories

-

All that’s left has a different meaning
Everything has changed; it’s all stayed the same
When every brittle bone is broken
And the inner organs are all that remain

(x2)

-

I guess that I am still ambivalent
I guess I’m struggling to commit
To any decision that falters in the mind
It’s as if none of those thoughts existed

-

And the clock ticks on
When absolutely nothing is going right
And the clock ticks on
When absolutely nothing is going right
And the clock ticks on
When absolutely nothing is going right
Still the clock ticks on
And the clock ticks still