accidental babies

Tonight I fall in love with Damien Rice all over again like the first time I listened to Cannonball before one number became two in terms of the years in this world, one that is unfathomable and malicious and also breathtaking at the same time. To write beautifully has always been a dream of mine I know I will never fully grasp in my hands because literature can never be fully encompassed, perfected, clutched in a tight fist like a trophy. 26 letters; endless number of combinations to be transformed into sentences that hold the power to stir in countless people so many emotions. Tonight I am stirred by words so perfectly arranged I am suddenly wanting to claim ownership of such beauty, envious of what comes so naturally to someone so unbelievably talented.

Well I held you like a lover
Happy hands, your elbow in the appropriate place

And we ignored our others
Happy plans for that delicate look upon your face

Our bodies moved and hardened
Hurting parts of your garden
With no room for a pardon
In a place where no one knows what we have done

Do you come
Together ever with him?
And is he dark enough?
Enough to see your light?
And do you brush your teeth before you kiss?
Do you miss my smell?
And is he bold enough to take you on?
Do you feel like you belong?
And does he drive you wild?
Or just mildly free?
What about me?

Well you held me like a lover
Sweaty hands
And my foot in the appropriate place

We use cushions to cover happy glands
In the mild issue of our disgrace

Our minds pressed and guarded
While our flesh disregarded
The lack of space for the lighthearted
In the boon that beats our drum

Well I know I make you cry
And I know sometimes you wanna die
But do you really feel alive without me?
If so, be free
If not, leave him for me
Before one of us has accidental babies
For we are in love



Cheers, Mr Rice.