The Interview

I split my tongue so that I could speak to you

in a language you would understand.

I sold my soul to a ghost,

turns out he used to be a man,

but I made out better than most;

made something of his plan.

Gone a while to the coast,

maybe they’ll bury me in sand.

 

I found the trapdoor

at the bottom of the world.

There was no way to escape

going any further down.

Every little bit disturbed,

I can’t imagine a way

to appease you now.

 

I said that I

would walk through hell

for you.

You never knew

the way I came into;

the life you choose

is not the one

they sell you in the interview.

 

So far gone now,

new ground is so far out.

I’m standing on the shore

fanning the flames

with my mouth.

Hoping that you’ll see me

and maybe you’ll correct your course.

You think you’re headed out to sea,

but you’re going to smash

into the rocks that ring the shore,

for sure.

 

On a moonlit night,

I watched you go

down

with all hands.

You never understood

what the warnings meant.

You thought it was

all part of the plan.

When you sat down

here in the day,

we admired you;

but then the dark came,

it wasn’t the same.

They don’t prepare you for this

in the interview.

 

I’m trying to speak the words,

haven’t you heard?

I’m trying to understand,

the writ and the terms.

I thought that we’d gotten out,

through the trapdoor at the bottom of the world.

Who knows what we’ve disturbed.

I’m you lies,

carry us to the coastline.

I wanna hear the waves when I die.

 

HG – 2016