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20060428 - White Balance

from The Song Diary I by Paleo

/

lyrics

WHITE BALANCE

White man, my skin reminds me of destruction,
and of countless sons' depressions.
If all the world's our bedpan,
from Manhattan
to Portland.

White man, my skin reminds me of a station
railside house, the heart of Boston,
where we first began the blueplans
for the Big Dance
with satin
and omens
in Latin.

White man, my skin reminds me of her soft hands.
Think I'll finally find a woman,
she could be for us a beacon,
our London.

White man, but all this talk of conversation,
on laundry lists of one-conditions,
I've seen the violence of commitment,
it jacks me up just like a kickstand,
perhaps you're barking up the wrong man,
white man.

White man, fold your hands up like two napkins
there is no place called Forgiveness,
we are penguins on an ice cap.

DAS - Lutz, Florida, USA

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from The Song Diary I, released April 15, 2007

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Paleo Portland, Oregon

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