Nothing’s sacred, nothing’s safe
beyond the whistler’s mind
what’s yours is hers
what’s theirs we share
and, what is more, it’s all mine
the “did you hear”
the “do you know”
when they’re attached to names
will pull the peg that holds the leg
and keeps in tact the frame
it comes back round like a boomerang
and hits you by surprise
we all have our blind spots
some right in front of our eyes
tear a pillow over a hill
and let those feathers fly
pick up each one separately
soon you’re gonna find out why
for what may seem impossible
or just downright absurd
is so much easier to grab-
than the spoken word
nothing’s round that don’t come round
a circle may one day end
but place your bets, the destiny sets
on the one whose message sends
a wave that tips the balance
and takes poor victims out
keep that path from being drawn
that’s what it’s all about
Chorus
don’t envy the messenger
from marathon on down
the courier of generals
the crier of the town
all have fates in common
for tales true or tall
the notes they speak
could also serve to eulogize them all
Chorus
Mike Clem © 1997 J. Fish Music/ASCAP