Palm Sunday

The Sun and Moon Mean nothing to you And I am a fool for my life pursuits I assume And I may have lost a year to you Silver threads among the gold ones too Sleepy Jean, Elizabeth the baker All stood with their welcoming signs While you and I, we sat in the bleachers Shaking our heads and rolling our eyes It was all for nothing And the carpet furled Ragged and rouge Must have felt like Palm Sunday to you I almost made it out Without a scratch or a bruise In another life Who knows what I must have slept through My room was as dark as a vacant hotel I reached for a ladder and fell down a well I put all my thoughts in a styrofoam box And locked them away It was all for nothing And the band played to an empty room Must have felt like Palm Sunday to you But it was my fault Every part Over and over again But oh, I know that every stone on a slope doesn't find a plateau