Me (The Thing)

The clock strikes nine o'clock,

and I am creeping from my bed

Pouring from paper ocean waves 

(something's struck my head)

Someone phoned that thing again

standing in my room

Who's that god damn thing again

(here I then assume)

I laugh it off (it's off the hook)

It will admit to no crime

Won't someone disconnect that

line again?

That thing is past its prime

Sea salt turns to rustic patterns

(embers)(sand)(rush)

Someone's calling my name down there

The thing is dry as brush

Saunter towards the door (I did)

I seemed to be lost on applause

Shuffle out the door (I did)

But it was the thing that made me pause

My name dragged it on a string

(it beat me out the door)

My name stuck right on it's sleeve

(left me lying on my floor)