|
Tell it to the judge, man. |
|
Tell it to your motherless reflection. |
|
In a sock and one shoe |
|
after the great defection |
|
he said, "tell a lie sometimes, tell the truth |
|
when it suits you, and when you've lost your way |
|
tell a story." |
|
Tell your story, tell it, tell it. |
|
Tell your story to anyone who'll listen. |
|
Tell your story, don't stop talking |
|
just tell your story walking. |
|
Listing through Carol Gardens |
|
on the way to Cobble Hill |
|
I stopped by a psychic's dusty, wilted windowsill. |
|
Forgot what she told me, mostly |
|
but I remember one thing she said |
|
"You may slip and call some lousy fuck your friend |
|
but in the end you'll come out even |
|
then, tell your story." |
|
And it's a sorry, frightful thing |
|
when you want to cry, but you can't keep from laughing. |
|
Outside the church that's so quiet it dares you to shout |
|
you put a hand to your mouth to stop the rain. |
|
You do a St. Vitus dance, to the sky you raise your voice. |
|
This is your chance, you have no choice |
|
you tell your story. |
