I stare the blank sheet
As I see the future of
it's unfinished audience
Both anxious for words and more

The ink is too low, it's not adequate
The model is so specific
The puzzle changes in many ways
And defect is always in the same piece

The more I type
The more have to type
Cause the more I talk
The harder is to tell you

That the book we write
Will have a future past tense
In a dusty shelf
Written on a valentine typewriter 84?

So turn the page, chapter two
Your instincts don't stop to think
That it's all an irrational necessity

Phrase is lost on us
Subject is wrong
Predicate, mistaken
The reason no longer makes sense

So I insist on writing what you need to speak
When speaking isn't doing
And doing is in no fairy tale

The more I type
The more have to type
Cause the more I talk
The harder is to tell you

That the book we write
Will have a future past tense
In a dusty shelf
Written on a valentine typewriter 84?

That the book we write
Will have a future past tense
In a dusty shelf
Written on a valentine typewriter 84?