Pages

Wednesday, May 19, 2010

Moving through the air, crazy kinda poet kid.

Spending our days translucent, in and out of everything - hanging out with strangers, that's the way that we began. Spraying our names on the trains in silver and black, then I make my way back across the tracks.

I can always find you wherever you are, there's fire in your eyes in the miracle park.

Staring at the sun, thinking it's the moon - a tiny indication, it's gonna happen soon. But not like you expect these silhouettes are getting closer. They bring you what you need, never what you hope for.

I guess by now they should have told you, they're getting closer.

There's so many things I just don't want to say like, "Have you got the stuff? I need a good day." There's so many things I just don't want to do, but your way is my way so walk on through.

I'm all alone on my own misadventure, seeking something that I don't want to find, cause if I do there's no rewind.

I'm on the very last train to wherever, reckon that I'll see you sometime like never, not even in my wildest did I think that it would go like this.

- telepop