Piled on Piles on Head Songtext
von BARR

Every minute behind for the last six hours
Six days, months, six years
Beating the clock in the head to death, watching the clock
Four separate sheets to say that
Noted that idea as a pervasive reality
All say the same thing, place the papers
Hidden under pounds of words in computers, sheets of text
A bad feeling, a sad sense
A state in my stomach, stayed and made home for days
Overwhelmed and at a loss to be able to accomplish anything
Inarticulate and crippled by insecurity
Words and word crutches piled on my head
Piles of crutches, the uh, the million wrong things
Fear of completion, a fear of this and time
And to how′d it become a million o'clock
And now is just starting
When now could have been last month even
Or the one before, the dates are up


The words are sent, the floor cleared, space made
Piles put away, but nothing′s done yet
I have no space in my mind
I have no space for that in my
Just uh, just holes filled with piles of magazines
And bags of bills and paper and cables and paint
I'm slow, I move so slowly
Inarticulated, just the biggest bag
Of thinking about how to whatever, how to break
What is the alternative?
The image of infinities of space or secret empty rooms
A secret empty space, open apartments
Open secret conference rooms
In the labyrinthine hotel cave complex
Open to stressless secrets
Personal possibilities, or white bare objects of potential
Please allow room and energy to accept this potential
As possibility, as reality, as truth