notes from the underground: my attempt to keep the things I read in my brain
Wednesday, April 23, 2014
carrying on with your conspiracies, filling the room with a sense of unease
If you come to find me affable
Build a replica for me
Would the idea to you be laughable
Of a pale facsimile?
So will you come to burn an effigy?
It should keep the flies away
And when you long to burn this effigy
It should be of the hours that slip away, slip away
It could be you, it could be me
Working the door, drinking for free
Carrying on with your conspiracies
Filling the room with a sense of unease
Fake conversations on a nonexistent telephone
Like the words of a man who's spent a little too much time alone
When one has spent too much time alone
So will you come to burn my effigy?
It should keep the flies away
If you long to burn an effigy
It should be of a man whose has lost his way, slips away
It could be you, it could be me
Working the door, drinking for free
Carrying on with your conspiracies
Filling the room with a sense of unease
Fake conversations on a nonexistent telephone
Like the words of a man who's spent a little too much time alone
When one has spent too much time alone
[Andrew Bird, "Effigy"]
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