Doppleganger 07/27/93

A shadow stapled to your arm
Is pulling lightly on the skin
And tugging right into the harm
It sees and hears a whisper pin
A breeze, it blows within the room
Is resting on your troubled eye
And you are dust inside a broom
Somebody spills up to the sky
Hold my hand so, let it go now
That's enough so pick up the pace
Don't tell me why just tell me how
Don't look at me fall in my face
The ripple in your clothing stops
The rock has sunk into the lake
The balloon in the corner pops
The party candles are all fake
A trace of me has lingered there
A part of me has fallen here
There's something to the top of stairs
There's something to the drop of spheres
The right side of the room is gone
Its traces trail like lonely men
Who cry at the beauty of dawn
Their faces frail in god knows when