Red, Red, Red

But he’s been pretty much yellow
And I’ve been kinda blue
But all I can see is
Red, red, red, red, now,
What am I gonna do?

The snow fell bridal on everything
and I wanted to feel nothing more
than a bridesmaid’s second hand joy
I smoothed plastic wrap over the mirror
and it didn’t fool anyone

When will the answers come
packed in their indifferent files
stacked in white boxes
growing soggy at the edges?
When will it all settle to the bottom
and turn heavy enough
to drip through my fingers?

So if I tell you this–
the pulpy thing that’ll stick to your teeth
you will pack your bag
but if I don’t tell you this
I’ll walk down a road of gas lights
45 minutes at a time
and my bag will never be packed
never be packed
never be packed
never be packed
now, what am I gonna do?

There’s solace a bit for submitting
To the fitfully cryptically true
What’s happened has happened
What’s coming is already on its way

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