Sunday 7/08/2007 12:14:00 AM

It's just a song. Words and music lying to us. Again.

It's just summer. We're trying to be born. Again. And we're failing. Broken pencils embedded in the paper. Stabbing those dead moments. Like bad drugs we wish would make us different. Or at least stranger enough to ourselves to justify what we've become.

The core of the apple. Little hotels of poison looking out at us from windows dark. Fables in reality. Burnt down to the wick. I'm your eve. You're my adam. But eden is impatient. Bored with us. The snake offers multiple choice. We can't pass. Everything is wrong.

It's at the end that the beginning is most clear. Some frail valentine. Some pale vampire harboring the blame. for every wrinkle in my brow. for every child I've never had.

Define wrong. Define us.

And then maybe you can tell me the difference.

Adam had it easy when his rib was taken to make. It was eve who suffered knowing she was stolen from him.

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