W.A. Fite

W.A. Fite
Courtesy James Villa Photography 2012

Wednesday, April 28, 2010

Lyrics: A Work In Progress

All my people think I'm simple.
Drink the coffee, read the paper.
Hear the band, the tunes they're flailing.
Sit for hours, just to play it out.

Who's in? Who's next?
A Work In Progress.

Will the waitress wave to greet me,
Or the doctor nod to see me?
Will my parent's come to meet me?
Drive four hours, just to call me son.

You've been a selfish child.
A Man In Progress.

The role is call. The bell's been ringing.
Kids at tables, blinking, dreaming...
Eyes adrift, with mouth's wide open.
Wait for hours, just to go outside.

To scream and skip.
The Boys in Collared Blue.
Inflamed, in bloom.
Their mind's consumed,
With frogs and glue.

The music's blaring. The women staring.
Nice to see you, how entertaining,
Of a notion that I am pleasing.
Conversations with no meaning...clung.

To youth and guile.
A Work In Progress.

Thursday, April 1, 2010

Lyrics: Breathing At The Door

Breathing at the door. When will you let me out? I've scratched and I have kicked, and I've quieted my mouth.
Breathing at the door. What a selfish place to stay. Locked in one place, god these people have no taste.

You're awake! I hear it. You're awake! I know it.
I hear you tossing. I feel you turning. Creep your feet out, put them right down, let me out now, open up the door.

Breathing at the door. Why must I beg to move? I've took all I should, give me another room.
Breathing at the door. When will you let me out? I've scratched and I've kicked, and I've quieted my mouth.