The Road to Ivy Dell
(I recorded my junior high school musical song. Shove it in your locker!)
(For the girls with all the boyfiends. Little Johnny is sitting in the gymnasium, all alone with his guitar, his best friend, the guitar. He doesn’t even have a pick. Sniffle sniffle. Boys don’t cry, they don’t cry.)
(Let’s pretend I found this lyric by the side of the road – on a page torn from a diary, crossed out, names scribbled over a hundred times with tight little circles, wadded up, stomped on, and left in the gravel and mud.)
“no more hearts to break”
hearts of gold get sold
hearts of fire fade
all the young hearts are getting old
and light hearts blow away
you were the first to say OK
i took your hand so i did not feel so strange
but sometimes a flower blooms
it spreads its petals and just runs out of room
hearts of gold get sold
hearts of fire fade
the young hearts are getting old
and light hearts blow away
where is the heartache
when theres no more love to take
cross your heart and hope to die
theres no more hearts to break
sometimes a flower blooms
it spreads its petals and just runs out of room
(“Ivy Dell”? More like “High School Musical”. Should I drown in vomit or just record the thing and be done with it? I sort of like the refrain bits. It’s sort of like a ‘fuck you’ greeting card.)
