Here is a lyric to a song I just finished. It’s called “Backwards Day.”
I stepped into the seven train this morning,
My hair just right, in perfect disarray.
I glanced across the aisle to see
A gorgeous man, eyes fixed on me.
When I looked back, he didn’t look away.
He gazed at me through station after station.
His eyes were deep and blue and left no doubt.
I grabbed my courage, took the dare,
And asked him, “Why the sexy stare?”
He said, “Because your shirt’s on inside-out.”
Every day is Backwards Day in my life.
I run across the finish line going in the wrong direction,
Having stupid accidents, causing strife,
And sleeping through my subway stop,
Never making a connection
To the person that I want so much to be,
So instead I’m always stuck being me.
But fate was with me: once again I saw him.
At the pretzel cart, I got a second chance.
I caught his eye and flashed a smile,
Said, “Careful there, the hot dog’s vile,”
Stepped forward, and spilled ketchup on his pants.
Every day is Backwards Day when you’re me.
You’re never really on the ball—just a step or two behind it,
Raising people’s hackles accidentally.
The other day I realized how much easier I’d find it
If I turned into a pumpkin or a yam,
But instead I’ve got to stay who I am.
So why did he give me his number?
What the hell do I do with this card?
Is he a therapist looking for patients?
‘Cause, if so, I’m irreparably marred.
I’m a giant, spectacular fuck-up
Who fits in like a foot in a glove.
I see people go forwards and crabs going sideways
But I’m just too backwards to love.
But . . . what if, when it’s Backwards Day, that’s okay?
And what if me the way I am is the me the Fates intended?
What if every lack I feel every day
Is not a lack at all, but rather leaves more room for something splendid
To appear and—oh, my God, that’s him, one flight of stairs below.
Now don’t hesitate, just go,
But this crowd is too damn slow,
So I’ll just shove my way along
Through the people in the throng.
Hey, remember me? I—AAAAAAAAAAAH!
(Beat.)
Gosh, your arms are strong.
Thank God I don’t really believe that part about me the way I am being the me the Fates intended. Otherwise I might start developing a sense of self-worth.
And who knows where that would lead me?
love it…
now how about posting an .mpg with the piano accompaniment?
I love how you rhymed ‘intended’ with ‘splendid’.
Master stroke (ahem).
Ivy, I’m not sure if you mean that “intended” and “splendid” don’t rhyme, but in fact, though the underlying representation of each word is different, by the time the phonological transformations are applied, the surface representation of each word has the same final vowel: [In-tEn-did] and [splEn-did].
(You can take the boy out of the linguistics department. . . .)
this is the best song i’ve heard in a hundred years. i LOVE it! it’s MY life.