Man Made - Poem by matthew wunsch
We do what we like and get high
Well it’s heartache that crumbles the soul
Tells a man what he’s worth when his face grows too old
And we do what we like and get by all the time
When the summer birds take flight to the wintery sky
Where the scenery grows duller all the time
That’s where the heart rules the soul
Tells a man what he’s worth when he’s growing old
With a cast iron mask and an engraved flask
That keeps siphoning you back
You can barely hold yourself still
Without whiskey and pills
And your mother would be so proud of you
Sitting alone on a roof that got you sold to the moon
Some nights you lay under a tangerine sky
With melodramatic eyes
Under a plastic canopy of childhood dreams
That everyone told you would get in the way
Of a job that well pays
And it’s heart ache that crumbles the soul
Tells a man what he’s worth when his dreams are over grown
But now it’s bottles and bills
Rent that’s been due and a band account that’s overdrawn still
“Maybe one day” he says “I’ll put my life in my own hands,
Find a lover who can help my life stand.
With a balancing swing,
And we are ball room dancing…”
He takes another shot… at being happy…
This time not with dreams or sappy
Love songs and a ring.
But with a bottle of booze, the warm comfort and sting
That puts a price tag on his head… outlined in bold.
It says “it’s the heart that rules the soul,
It can break a man when he’s grown too old.”
But we do what we do
And we do it till we’re fine
Or fine enough to live our own lives
We do what we do and get high off the fumes.
A silly lullaby to occupy the mood.
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