Baa. Blame bluerain
Put your MP3 player on shuffle, and write down the first line of the first twenty songs. Post the poem that results. The first line of the twenty-first is the title.

"So, are you breathing?"

She is gone, leaves are falling down, the tear maiden will not return
Mystery, after gala night, it says mystery, of soprano's flight
Love, love is a verb, love is a doing word, feathers on my breath
I kept the right ones out, and let the wrong ones in

This is the place where she laid her head, when she went to bed at night
George Washington was the president, but now he's dead (dead)
The wind was a torrent of darkness among the ghastly trees
Falling through pages of Martens on angels, feeling my heart pull west

I saw her dancin' there by the record machine, I knew she must a been about seventeen
I, I am a bastard son, conceived of a hundred men, now I'm the Chosen One
Each night I lie awake completely alone, a voice is speaking and I tremble for it's not my own
Seed of doubt, it exists and it grows, a glimpse of life from somewhere deep within

I'm only pretty sure that I can't take anymore, before you take a swing, I wonder, what are we fighting for?
I dig my toes into the sand, the ocean looks like a thousand diamonds strewn across a blue blanket
I see the wealthy guy, the world in his eyes, he need not contain no pain or shame, "And never will," I cry
The world is my expense, the cost of my desire, Jesus blessed me with its future, and I protect it with fire

Now at my feet, the dying voice of balance - nevermore shall there be a way to fly,
I can't use what I can't abuse, and I can't stop when it comes to you
The statue got me high, the statue got me high, the monument of granite sent a beam into my eye
And the road becomes my bride, I have stripped of all but pride, So in her I do confide, And she keeps me satisfied