The Wrens, photo by Gregory A. Perez

i took to faces shooting stills and places
i took nudes of our youngest boy
I took two years to take his name over
i beat blank with blank’s toy

i’d sing your praises to the devil’s face
but even fire couldn’t dry you out
you wouldn’t know a good shot if you drank one
Then throws up throws punches throws everybody out

shut up and while we’re on the subject
of endless me and the what’s i’ve done
i didn’t raise my boy to be your snapshot toy
not for you, not my son

And as he made his point, he opened up my eye:
We’re off and running
North to Nothing, yeah
I would not miss him
as perfect as he ****

–from Abbott 1135

This entry was posted on Tuesday, December 11th, 2007 at 8:24 AM and is filed under music, quotes. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. leave a response, or trackback from your own site. */ ?>