Josh Rouse
Somehow you could always tell
Blood absorbed into the bread of manGrows heavy on the plateIf bread were eaten with every mealIt wouldn't taste so greatIn every kitchen in every houseOn good days or in badContent or bitchin' you turn to the lightThat falls on the things you hadAnd it's always somethingElse you had in mind And you always noticeWhen something isn't rightLet the fork fall from your right handYour handYour hand Behold the rock and roll its mossy assOver on its sideLook to see the grubs and little silverfishScurry from the lightA child is playing with the volume knobAnd the radio goes deadA father speaks and then an ambulanceIs heard outside your head SongtexteAnd it's always somethingElse you had in mind And you always noticeWhen something isn't rightLet the stone fall back againAgainAgain
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