The String Thing

Co-Written by James.

We're all strung on life's empty string,

waiting for a simple anything,

from a secret midnight fling

to a public emerald ring,

yet all we do is sing

about the lies and sad bling,

which fails at covering

up the madness we bring;

one winter day, I might fling

off my skin, without thinking,

and only then will I bring

your honest emerald ring

to your doorstep in the spring.

And when my children hang on the string,

they won't hear the song that I sing,

nor will you in the spring cleaning,

or when we're all outside gardening.

And we'll all be smiling

on the emerald string.

It's just a delicate thing,

the matter of the string.