Song parody of
These 23 Seconds In September
by Stuart David Cohen (David Blue)
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Lazy baby’s had a look of discontent, early in the morning, late at night, her humor's spent. I tried, cannot trace, the reason for her new faith, she keeps it out for everyone not just me. So politely it hurts when she speaks, with her surface tension swift and cynically. Using only the sharpest word not at all like her, not at all the happy girl she use to be.
When I’m gone, she says when I’m gone..
If I ask what is it she turns away; silence is her only answer these days. Deep inside something is wrong, something I can’t touch upon, it has possessed her now for some weeks. Now she’s spends her time sitting wistfully, behind a steamy window in retreat. Watching with half closed eyes, her reflection she tries, for an image of herself that would be complete.
When I’m gone, she says, when I’m gone..
There are times when she seems to be herself. Laughing a delighted child from all else; this lasts for a while and then the precious smile disappears into a world where she’s not free. On the floor pages torn from books she reads. Ancient ones, and new, magic, and philosophy. Hopeful she tries every one soon leaving them undone, they seem to hold nothing at all, she can believe.
When I’m gone she says when I’m gone..
Lazy baby’s had a look of discontent, early in the morning, late at night, her humor's spent. I tried, cannot trace, the reason for her new faith, she keeps it out for everyone not just me. So politely it hurts when she speaks, with her surface tension swift and cynically. Using only the sharpest word not at all like her, not at all the happy girl she use to be.
When I’m gone, she says when I’m gone..
If I ask what is it she turns away; silence is her only answer these days. Deep inside something is wrong, something I can’t touch upon, it has possessed her now for some weeks. Now she’s spends her time sitting wistfully, behind a steamy window in retreat. Watching with half closed eyes, her reflection she tries, for an image of herself that would be complete.
When I’m gone, she says, when I’m gone..
There are times when she seems to be herself. Laughing a delighted child from all else; this lasts for a while and then the precious smile disappears into a world where she’s not free. On the floor pages torn from books she reads. Ancient ones, and new, magic, and philosophy. Hopeful she tries every one soon leaving them undone, they seem to hold nothing at all, she can believe.
When I’m gone she says when I’m gone..
