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Array
(
[sid] => 124684
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => The Crooked Pioneer
[time] => 2006-08-20 02:24:35
[hometext] => Life wasted?
[bodytext] => Hello new life, Goodbye old world, Sorry sweetheart I’ve been hurled, It’s been kind and caring summer time But this is where we cross the line There is a ticket in my pocket and it says “to Los Angeles” But I’m not really sure where exactly that this is I wish to keep my dreams in front of me where it is that they belong But leaving lust behind seems like leaving’s being wrong What a fickle road I pave, it’s such a selfish, weary one Of a crooked pioneer splitting town, he’s always on the run And his crooked little life, his crooked little schemes Might be the kind of crooked that’s not the crooked that it seems But one thing is for sure, he isn’t trudging in despair This is some kind of reckoning if reckonings could beckon quite as clear And I don’t feel sorry for the wounded that I leave behind The game is still in running and that goddamned prize is mine Hello new life, Goodbye old world, Sorry sweetheart I’ve been hurled It’s been kind and caring summer time But this is where we cross the line You might remember me if I’m someday on a television screen As that crooked pioneer with his crooked little dream And I hope you remember when I shared your bed The visions that we connected, the words that were said That I’m not all that bad as I sometimes make myself out to be And I hope you can make out through the shield to the weakness that is me The reckoning is cast, God’s hand plays it’s cleverest of throws Onto this fate driven life and the journey that it’s chose I’m forgetting everything I’ve lived and remembering everything I learned Leaving everything I had for all that nothing that I’ve earned In some lost city of lights where they’ll monopolize my soul Until it finally dawns, that I’m the one who’s in control Hello new life, Goodbye old world, Sorry sweetheart I’ve been hurled It’s been kind and caring summer time But this is where we cross the line Oh look who it is, whose sold on a marquee so clear Why it’s that sweet memory, my crooked pioneer Who would have thought the ranting had some location to be thrown Who’d of known he’d be an icon and I’d be here alone Clicking, snapping photos and red carpets to his name But a humble, sad figure who somehow always stayed the same If I look into his eyes, maybe I could look into the past To fondness in the park and kisses I felt would always last Of a friend and a lover, a son and a friendly face So easily constructed yet so unready to erase I wonder if he ever feels sorry for the wounded, or at least I wish he is But the game is all done running and that goddamned prize is his Hello new hell, Goodbye old love, Sorry memory I can’t think of It’s been kind and caring summer time I’m sorry but I’ve crossed the line [comments] => 1 [counter] => 152 [topic] => 21 [informant] => Franciswolf [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Lifepoems )
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