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A Broom and a Typewriter


Justin St. Pierre

I will not lie, I'll not pretend
That you're not special to me
I won't hold back or play the game
Cause its not natural to me

Meanwhile in comic strips
The action shifts to another panel
In stained-glass windows that
Filter and reflect my sorrow

If I ever lose my way then
You'd better draw me a map
Don't forget to mark essential locations
With a tack and some ribbon from your hair

But if you go and break my heart
I'll lock myself up in the attic
With a broom and a typewriter
I'll kill two birds with a single stone
And sweep up the pieces along with
The crumpled paper and cigarette butts

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