Eighteen years ago, it was March Twenty-Two, and I was depressed. So I wrote a poem, and that poem became a song.
March Twenty-Two - Lyrics
March twenty-two
During a forgotten hour
Here I am, uninhabited
Dreaming with my eyes open
Rambling on the stormy waters
Of the world
You melt into my memory
Like a defective dome collapsing
Like a malformed wave crashing
Against the rock of a swampy bay
I suppose only Freud could heal me
But Freud embarked on another life
The inheritance left by the genius
It is just a particle of what really was
His work made of flesh
You crumble on my idea
Knocked down, murdered, stabbed
A thousand times to return to your
Damn building
Inside the column that sustains
My fanciful existence
You melt into my memory
Like a defective dome collapsing
Like a malformed wave crashing
Against the rock of a swampy bay
I suppose only Freud could heal me
But Freud embarked on another life
The inheritance left by the genius
It is just a particle of what really was
His work made of flesh
You crumble on my idea
Knocked down, murdered, stabbed
A thousand times to return to your
Damn building
Inside the column that sustains
My fanciful existence