Running up that hill

Running up that hill

It’s you and me,

and we’re running around that hill, running through the reeds,

where the bayou turns to Spanish moss.

You don’t want to hurt me,

we make a deals about God.

It’s all wrong.

It’s you and me,

where the sun turns to a peach amongst rose petals when evening comes.

It’s you and me,

it’s all wrong,

If only we could stop.

We’re running up that road, running around the bend,

look down, and I’ll show you my catfish,

Lurking at the bottom,

making deals about God.

The sidewalk ends,

we’re rolling down that hill,

rolling into the concrete river, through the reeds and Spanish Moss.

We say hello to the catfish, we float amongst the sewage.

It’s you and me,

and you are frowning at me, and you don’t want to hurt me, but we’re rolling down that hill,

and we’re making deals about God, and you do.

Curse you for ruining Kate Bush for me.

(In case it wasn’t obvious, this was inspired by the song, Running up that Hill, by Kate Bush. I had a dream with it playing in the background, and this poem came from that dream)

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