Lyrics for Numb

Don't move don't talk out of time
Don't think, don't worry
everything's just fine.
-Just fine.

Don't grab, don't clutch
Don't hope for too much
Don't breathe don't achieve
Don't grieve without leave

Don't check just balance
on the fence Don't answer don't
ask don't try and make sense

Don't whisper don't talk don't run
if you can walk don't cheat compete don't
miss the one beat

Don't travel by train don't eat don't spill
don't piss in the drain don't make a will

Don't fill out any forms don't compensate don't
cower don't crawl don't come
around late

Don't hover at the gate

Don't take it on board don't fall
on your sword just play another chord if
you feel you're getting bored

I feel numb
I feel numb
Too much is not enough

Don't change your brand don't listen
to the band don't gape don't ape don't
change your shape

Have another grape

Don't plead don't bridle don't shackle
don't grind
don't curve don't swerve

Lie die serve

Don't theorize realize polarize
chance dance dismiss

apologize

don't spy don't lie don't try
imply detain explain
start again

Don't triumph don't coax don't cling don't
freak peak don't leak don't speak

don't project don't connect.
Protect
don't expect.
Suggest

Don't struggle don't jerk don't
collar don't work don't wish don't fish
don't teach don't reach

Don't borrow don't break don't
fence don't steal don't pass don't press
don't fry don't feel

Don't touch don't dive don't suffer
don't rhyme
don't fantasize
don't rise don't lie

DON'T PROJECT DON'T CONNECT
PROTECT
DON'T EXPECT
SUGGEST

i feel numb

Numb U2

(...heart is)

A wingless bird walks the edge of
shadow dropped down from a cloud.
His hurt elegance will shape the sky.
A wing disembodied, aloft and inspired
burns its image through my eyes. All I can see now
is half flight in the half light. Waking
to the wind crossing the rim of a careless night and
knocking the moon loose from its root.
It withers and falls, from and with
grace. A perfect fruit, never too ripe
and you needn’t bite,
to taste.

I keep to this street until
one of us ends. My address will not
go home (is where the … you know). A number, a name,
a code, returned to a sender
that also moved.

A name not lent to sound but taken shape and deep internally.
One softening key repeats as form itself: a form of speech --
skeletal, multilingual, calling open entire cities in me swinging
on their hinges. Past one helpless threshold, someone’s typing
while it rains. I can feel my eyes rising out of
brushed on paint. Art is in the making -- a still damp portrait.
There will not be a finished product.

There’s a door that cannot answer, it was left
UN-named. And a door without sure closure.
It’s without a lock. Ever interrupted, ever passing
through and through you, these two
become the same.