Book Pile

There's a pile of books and papers and such
On my bedroom floor
Untouched for months
Collecting a disgusting amount of dust
The yellowing pages and the breaking of trust
But I won't ever clean them
Because that would mean I'll never read them
There's a self help book about the passage of time
Tried to retain the wisdom
But it never felt right
One chapter left, but if I learned anything
It's that the way that it ends means nothing to me
A poem I stole from the kindling bin
Probably illegal but well intentioned
In the nosebleed year, I went to the tracks
Met an ancient evil in a ten gallon hat
There's some powerful wartime philosophy but it's got no chance of helping
The old lady's crazy and she doesn't see
How everythings bigger than she could believe
A book full of blood from the veins of my country
I kept it close thought Jack was telling me something
The cover tore off that day at the lake
Maybe one day I'll have what it takes
And last but not least there's a card from a friend
Who could've been a lover but I've become a better man
The joy and simplicity I fight to replace
With the ticking timebomb of careless embrace