Trolley Problems
If I’m tied to the tracks
And you’re the speeding train
I’d cherish the time we spent together
In our skin to steel embrace
Switch hit, course correct
I see both sides of you now
The pendulum swings and still you chug along
You were the one I loved the most
There’s an engine in your eyes /
Fires dance around your feet
Tied to the tracks and loosening my grip /
Forever in your way
Thinking of you is a one way street. Blue, blue, blue, grey, blue, blue, blue, blue. We’ve gotten older and a lot of things change—life circumstances, jobs, relationships. But my love for you will remain forever, dear old friend. I wish you felt the same. I wish you felt the way you felt just a few years ago when I knew you were there. Now, my birthday feels hollow when I don’t even hear from you. It’s okay, you probably just forgot. I’ll give you another chance next year. Blue, blue, blue, blue. I miss the grey.
Sometimes I imagine you as a saint, sometimes I imagine you in a coffin. Either way, you’re as good as gone. I can chalk this up as another failure—one that stings a little differently, lasts a little longer, and one that time doesn’t change.
“You Get What You Give” by New Radicals talks about a dreamer’s disease, class divide, reaping and sowing, etc. If the world was fair, maybe I’d be a bit more optimistic. For what it’s worth, I’d give you the earth just to see the grey, grey, grey. Alexander was frustrated that people, mostly the media, were focusing on the trivialities like Love and Manson rather than the issues he laid out just as clearly. Maybe I’m focusing on the wrong things too. It’s not the blues and greys I should be so concerned with. You tell me you love me. That’s enough. That’s getting what I give.
One dance left.
Don’t let go.
