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First Edition Paperbacks
Trivial Shields
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Lyrics
Original
Translation
Bilingual
Met you in the village selling Artaud
First edition paperbacks
Those who dream of unread things
Are caught, obsessed
Driving in your Buick towards your sublet
Money in a zippered bag
When we place our trust in things
Is it more than a guess?
I don't know but...
I'm closed and worn
The past
Has firmly torn
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My map
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Took a car to meet you off of Fairfax
Living with your mom and cats
Quickly dreams might wake in screams
And I'm often the culprit
Living off of manic lust in excess
Eating from your supple hands
When brilliant minds antagonize
Is there fault to contest?
I don't know but...
I'm closed and worn
The past
Has firmly torn
My map
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I'm closed and worn
The past
Has firmly formed
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My mask
And trust is such a
Fickle thing
Is love a mutual deceit?
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And as I finger pages, dusty and deprived
Forgotten scents arouse the memories we hide
New acquisitions my distractions from defeat
I lick my wounds by hoarding bitter remedies
And on the table
Lie Cocteau and Hegel
Ideals cradled, our lives merely fables
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