I'd heard from this lover
          who'd burned the words of all of the others
She started a whole new state of perception
          it was her fault
          that design
          corrupt by desire

She's a nightlight to babies
A nightmare to mothers
          and something else entirely to all of the others

And she was mine
          at least for a short time

And all that I really know is that
          you and I, we already know

I've got boxes in piles
          all around this office hovel
          which makes up some sort of sham life
          (but, it was mine)

Well, open a box, take out a picture
          of your humble narrator
          at seventeen
          an age when he'd read too much about
          Turkish Delight and a land
          ruled by a lion

a lion.... a lie on... you are a lie.

And all that I really know, is that you and I, we already know...
          how low I am willing to go.

How low?
How low?


It's your time,
               it's my sham life,
          it's my trial,
                              it's fucked up,
                 it's maxed out,
                     it's held down.

Here is a box full of some words or other,
          made out to someone,
                    (oh someone or other)
                              I once called a friend,
                                        but wanted as lover...
                                                  friend / lover...
                                                  friend / lover....

She was mine.

And so this lover
          you know the one who'd burned down all of the others
Well, she was mine
At least for a short time
But, she might as well have been yours
          for all I remember

All I have to go on
          is boxes full of...

And it's my... Life... Sham... Life... My... Trial...
My sham life, my mock trail, my sham life, my mock trial.

And all that I really know,
          is that you and I, we already know

September 2005, Michael Anderson