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