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Age and Dust
Antiques sit in the dusty cellars
Collecting dust like collecting baseball cards
Antiques sit in museum shops
Bored to their knees
With enormous price tags
Old and gray
Over our heads
Over the hill
Older than your birthday spool
Strays and strands away
They’re auctioned off
Nervous on the stage
Spinning plates
To raise the stakes
Collecting dust
Collecting age
How old are they?
Why do today what can be done
Tomorrow?
But what is today
But yesterday’s tomorrow?
They’re sewn together
Twenty-four silk hours to spend
Sewn with tiny needles
Today, tomorrow, yesterday
It’s all just old and gray
Prunes wrinkle with age
Antiques shiver on the stage
Cold as a cold shoulder
Watch the children
They’ll always break the dishes
And ruin everything…
