To Dance On A Hot August Night With God

This little black box
I've got to get out of this little black box
that is chained and locked
because you all thought I could walk on water
but found I could only walk on rain

And if I feel a bit under the weather
or look sort of run down
it is because my mind has been squeezed
into the spaces in between
So the ghost in the corner of my eye
won't wake up

This little black box
that has been chained and locked
for four days and twenty nights
That sleepless dreaming of
nostalgic dreams
blanketing everything in the cheap smell
of dime store incense
and the filthy hope
that you'll make it with a
girl from the pages of a magazine

This little black box
that has shut up my mind
like a trap
so the thoughts can't worm through
which has left me powerless
to stop and listen or obey
that's why I look, act and feel this way

So now that I'm becoming thin
a little drawn out and pale
chocking you with a vacant stare
If I feel like a wanna-be martyr
knock me down

The little black box
has made it hard
to try and feel anymore
so that it seems the words
that pour from our mouths
into our ears
mean little of what the words
meant before

With me just babbling in the corner
while the party orbits around
that little black box
which is still chained and locked
with my old shell still rotting


Nathan Schaffner lives in Raleigh, North Carolina.

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