with simon west on sax.....

He’s been trading in paper
Somewhere at the top of the world
He comes at her with his paper
And who knows what she’s been sold
I can’t offer her water
It’s ferrous in this part of town
Instead I’ll offer her poetry
Though God knows it’s nothing profound

I love her so bad but the things that I had
Were on paper
The cash in my hand was made out of sand
Now I hate her
For trading me in
Paper is thicker than ink

She taught me the profit
In speculating on yourself
Next year I’ll be a contender
I’ll climb to the top of the shelf
The looking-glass wants no admission
Just pay with the gleam in your eye.
Getting out is much harder
When you start leaking faith in your style.

I love her so bad but the things that I had
Were on paper
The cash in my hand was made out of sand
Now I hate her
For trading me in
Paper is thicker than ink

I don’t know why she stays with him
He’s wicked, rough and cold
He makes money from alchemy
Turning mirrors and smoke into gold
If I were him, I’d be different
I’d discover my better self
I’d tear out my paper heart
To repent for my paper wealth

The sum that I’m worth is no more than the earth
That I walk on
The soles of my shoes have worn all the way through
But I walk on
For nickels and dimes
As poets are paid to do


Scissors Paper

Casual song-writer, slowly working on collection of original material ('Poncho Land') in collaboration with others

Scissors Paper

Jeremy Freeson