I'm Actual

Can we take the next hour and talk about me?
Talk about me, oh we'll talk about me
Talk about me, and we'll only talk about me

Can we please take this hour and talk about me?
And my hatred for corporate magazines
You know they don't speak to me
The irony is they won't speak with me

I placed you on a windowsill
Cut notches up and down the door
My surprise I woke up one morning
In our bed, in your place, lay a note

It read, "Baby, Your love it just ain't good enough.
I found sunlight 6 hours away.
You watered me down 'til I drifted abound
Somewhere far from your shade."

Now I shadow my former self
Once holy, now lonely, a chest full of holes
red wax it paints me all clear
When the big hand strikes 12, I disappear

And the angels are fake and they'll lie to your face
Anything to keep you away
You watered me down 'til I drifted abound
Somewhere far from your shade

It's time I accept the fact that you on your back
It has buried the past
Can we please take this hour and talk about me?
Talk about me, oh we'll talk about me
Talk about me, and we'll only talk about me

Can we please take this hour and talk about me?
And my hatred for corporate magazines
You know they don't speak to me
The irony is they won't speak with me

--the format

So here I am very much enjoying my dog problems. They have such up-beats with such mildly depressing themes and content. It's like something I recently read in a book called Lolita in Tehran; that the reason why we can feel good after reading books in which terribly sad and awful things happen, and even like these books is because of the amazing skill of the form. The content is enriched by the form to such an extent that we rejoice over the experience of reading it, even though the content itself maybe challenge or bother us. In the same way, I can both identify with the sadness of the song and feel that sadness, while at the same time rejoicing over the experience of the song.

I don't want to talk about my life right now.