A Little More
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| © 1996 - 2011 Gregg M. Pasterick All rights reserved. |
just a few days after July.
Summer's slowly going' away,
and brother, so am I.
I just came down from Piegan Pass,
I didn't know it was so high.
Now it's time to watch some stars
tumble from the sky.
And I'm not sure I give a damn
what's goin' on or where I am.
I think I've gotten a lay of the land.
Land is life, it's a metaphor,
it's whatever the hell washes ashore,
or turns up scratchin' at your back door.
It's Mother Teresa feedin' the poor;
it's the humid embrace of Pussy Galore,
and I always want a little more.
I always want a little more.
I always want a little more.
Suddenly a week's gone by,
and autumn's in the air.
The mountains are the first to show
the season's wear and tear.
I try to find a little peace
in my butt-worn rockin' chair,
feelin' like the chew toy
of a playful grizzly bear.
And I'm not sure I give a damn
what's goin' on or where I am.
I think I've gotten a lay of the land.
Land is life, it's a metaphor,
it's whatever the hell washes ashore,
or turns up scratchin' at your back door.
It's Mother Teresa feedin' the poor;
it's the humid embrace of Pussy Galore,
and I always want a little more.
I always want a little more.
I always want a little more.
I find there's no one home in people's lives.
They skim the surface barely getting by.
And yet they're always quick to criticize
how I live my life...
Another Friday morning and it's
more of the same.
I'm waitin' for the sky to clear,
which guarantees more rain.
But of all that's my status quo,
my martyrdom and pain.
It's all mental masturbation,
but I feel no shame.
And I'm not sure I give a damn
what's goin' on or where I am.
I think I've gotten a lay of the land.
Land is life, it's a metaphor,
it's whatever the hell washes ashore,
or turns up scratchin' at your back door.
It's Mother Teresa feedin' the poor;
it's the humid embrace of Pussy Galore,
and I always want a little more.
I always want a little more.
I always want a little more.
A Little More
© 2005 Gregg M. Pasterick
Summer's slowly going' away,
and brother, so am I.
I just came down from Piegan Pass,
I didn't know it was so high.
Now it's time to watch some stars
tumble from the sky.
And I'm not sure I give a damn
what's goin' on or where I am.
I think I've gotten a lay of the land.
Land is life, it's a metaphor,
it's whatever the hell washes ashore,
or turns up scratchin' at your back door.
It's Mother Teresa feedin' the poor;
it's the humid embrace of Pussy Galore,
and I always want a little more.
I always want a little more.
I always want a little more.
Suddenly a week's gone by,
and autumn's in the air.
The mountains are the first to show
the season's wear and tear.
I try to find a little peace
in my butt-worn rockin' chair,
feelin' like the chew toy
of a playful grizzly bear.
And I'm not sure I give a damn
what's goin' on or where I am.
I think I've gotten a lay of the land.
Land is life, it's a metaphor,
it's whatever the hell washes ashore,
or turns up scratchin' at your back door.
It's Mother Teresa feedin' the poor;
it's the humid embrace of Pussy Galore,
and I always want a little more.
I always want a little more.
I always want a little more.
I find there's no one home in people's lives.
They skim the surface barely getting by.
And yet they're always quick to criticize
how I live my life...
Another Friday morning and it's
more of the same.
I'm waitin' for the sky to clear,
which guarantees more rain.
But of all that's my status quo,
my martyrdom and pain.
It's all mental masturbation,
but I feel no shame.
And I'm not sure I give a damn
what's goin' on or where I am.
I think I've gotten a lay of the land.
Land is life, it's a metaphor,
it's whatever the hell washes ashore,
or turns up scratchin' at your back door.
It's Mother Teresa feedin' the poor;
it's the humid embrace of Pussy Galore,
and I always want a little more.
I always want a little more.
I always want a little more.
A Little More
© 2005 Gregg M. Pasterick