A new lyric arising from the scraps of my past.
Space To Be
A dingy city hotel room
Barred windows, the seventh floor
A refuge from this wintry gloom
En route to a dream I saw.
A recent industrial escapee
A workaholic whore
A semi-burnt out casualty
Of life's revolving door.
I hear you took off travelling
In search of something more
Deluded and dissatisfied
With no substance at the core.
You said you needed space to be
Some thing you'd never been
Some time to see if you are free
From the past you need to clean.
I know it's kind of hard to make
The break from who you are.
All the things I could have done
If time took me that far.
Pulsing neons beyond this room
Stab into my fitful dreams
Within this city's pressing doom
Little is as it seems.
Consequences overlooked
Conscience packed away
Lost the now, goose is cooked
In the rush to another day.
© J.W. 2004.
Regards Witty Owl.
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