- Messages
- 8,153
- Location
- The Gorge Area, Oregon
I'm leaving the last verse unfinished as sort of a metaphor for my current situation. Ugh, if you're going to turn Elm invest in a sandpaper company, preferably one that makes coarse grits and lots of them (and maybe a power sander, and a reversing lathe.. the reverse is what keeps me sane here; no real idea if its actually faster but hey variety is the spice of sanding).
Hello tearout, my old friend
I've come to talk with you again
Lesser grits left me weeping
Left the marks I'm not keeping
And the tearout that was planted in my pain
Still remains
With the sounds of sanding
With restless scrapers I walked alone
Man this stuffs like cobblestone
'Neath the halo of a work light
I reverse my lathe and bump the lamp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a sad sight
That split the night
And touched the sound of sanding
And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand flaws, maybe more
Chisels cutting without skipping
Chisels leaving finish glistening
Chisels leaving marks that scrapers never bared
And no one dared
Disturb the sound of sanding
"Fools", said I, "You do not know
Sanding like a cancer grows
Hear my words that I might teach you
Take my arms that I might reach you"
But my words, like silent raindrops fell
And echoed
In the wells of sanding
Hello tearout, my old friend
I've come to talk with you again
Lesser grits left me weeping
Left the marks I'm not keeping
And the tearout that was planted in my pain
Still remains
With the sounds of sanding
With restless scrapers I walked alone
Man this stuffs like cobblestone
'Neath the halo of a work light
I reverse my lathe and bump the lamp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a sad sight
That split the night
And touched the sound of sanding
And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand flaws, maybe more
Chisels cutting without skipping
Chisels leaving finish glistening
Chisels leaving marks that scrapers never bared
And no one dared
Disturb the sound of sanding
"Fools", said I, "You do not know
Sanding like a cancer grows
Hear my words that I might teach you
Take my arms that I might reach you"
But my words, like silent raindrops fell
And echoed
In the wells of sanding
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