Palm Sunday

The Sun and Moon
Mean nothing to you
And I am a fool for my life pursuits I assume

And I may have lost a year to you
Silver threads among the gold ones too

Sleepy Jean, Elizabeth the baker
All stood with their welcoming signs
While you and I, we sat in the bleachers
Shaking our heads and rolling our eyes

It was all for nothing
And the carpet furled
Ragged and rouge
Must have felt like Palm Sunday to you

I almost made it out
Without a scratch or a bruise
In another life
Who knows what I must have slept through

My room was as dark as a vacant hotel
I reached for a ladder and fell down a well
I put all my thoughts in a styrofoam box
And locked them away

It was all for nothing
And the band played to an empty room
Must have felt like Palm Sunday to you

But it was my fault
Every part
Over and over again

But oh, I know that every stone on a slope doesn't find a plateau