Pressed in a Book

Doted on like seeds planted in rows
The untied shoelaces of your life
Nurtured all year, then pressed in a book
Or displayed in bad taste at the table.
Problems arise and you fan the fire
While there's a wild pack of dogs
Loose in your house tonight
Cut from bad cloth or soiled like socks
Add it up, and basically people never change

They just talk and make plans in the dark
Or make haste with ideas that can't help
But creep good people out.
As you talk to me to me, what you're assuming
We don't always want what's right.

Did I strike the right set of chords?
You're annoyed,
The goal is to ignite you then move on.
You feel ill at ease, you got no squeeze
And the wise-cracks won't make you more stable.
You've learned your lines to scale and to time
Why must I remind you now
I'm only less able
Cut from bad cloth or soiled like socks
We're ordinary people, we can't help but to change

As we walk and make plans in the dark
Or make haste with the boy who can't help
But creep good people out.
As you talk to me to me, what you're assuming
We don't always want what's right.

Two fallen saplings in an open field
Snow padding gently on an empty bench
An old woman's jewelry lying unadorned
Cold nesting robins allied for the first time
I know when you hear these sappy lines
You'll roll your eyes and say:
"Nice try."