Flypaper Baby

Oh, to be a fly on your wall,
To tiptoe down your hall at night
And gaze upon your slumber.
You know you’ve got my number;
It seems the jig is up.

Now I’m dancing on flypaper,
Baby,
And the music’s not enough.

An ending so abrupt, anything but final.
Don’t translate well to vinyl:
There’s too much static in me, and
This interference deafens.
Didn’t hear you call my bluff.

Now I’m dancing on flypaper,
Baby,
And the music’s not enough.

Sometimes it feels like I’m the spider
Sitting down beside her, watching as the webs I weave
Crumble into ash.
And sometimes you’re the fly
Stumbling through my ointment, illusion writing piles of checks
Reality can’t cash.

Waste so much time on lyrics
That don’t amount to much.
Always pointing fingers that
Never dare to touch. Always
Soft and gentle. Always hard and rough…

You’re my flypaper
Baby,
And I just can’t get enough.

5 thoughts on “Flypaper Baby

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