My Autobiography

( "listen to the true story...")

I wrote this one on my back
I was under attack from the falling dusk
Now it's a bust
What you see inside
Of me, isn't quite what I wrote in my autobiography
But it's what you see

Now spring couldn't get much worse
And the sun is a curse shooting frozen rays
In my place
And I'm left here all alone
In the cold on my bed in the afternoon while I compose my autobiography