Can You Dig It?

Orange street lights below
a muddy, blood-red sky

Night's passion pronounced
to close doors, days from now

Listen to the words
that don't come from my mouth

Hate the noise of my voice
love the voice in my head

I control the puppet master
and my strings are dirty from walking

Spin the revolving doors compulsively
people will stop, and notice

Beg for deliverance from the darkness
which seems to always fall this time of year

Pull the knife out of your loves
and nurse them back to health

Know who wants to love
and those who can only love friendly

Short roots can't bare the load
of the thimble floods that run this route

No roads lead to paradise
only buzz words and interesting companions

You are a shipwreck of past glory
with treasures you refuse to relinquish

So make your own map
        dig where " I " marks the spot