They hid behind the trees
we thought we would leave standing
in our streets,
Watched us spend our days
digging into the ground to get into space
and the nights,wandering lost in it
We walked around barely ever smiling,
Our tragedies so slow we grew old knowing them
We made love and washed off
our tortured sensibilities in it
We lost love and rubbed shoulders
with the executioners..
On the road going up the hill
we were the white horse questioning his faith
On the road going down
we never thought twice,and ran
like they ran away from us
we thought we would leave standing
in our streets,
Watched us spend our days
digging into the ground to get into space
and the nights,wandering lost in it
We walked around barely ever smiling,
Our tragedies so slow we grew old knowing them
We made love and washed off
our tortured sensibilities in it
We lost love and rubbed shoulders
with the executioners..
On the road going up the hill
we were the white horse questioning his faith
On the road going down
we never thought twice,and ran
like they ran away from us
We walked around barely ever smiling,
ReplyDeleteOur tragedies so slow we grew old knowing them
This is heartbreaking. I do not want this for myself, or for you. I had a good weekend. I felt happy. It was most assuredly odd, to have a good feeling be out of place. But I unpacked it and gave it a spare room. Hope it stays a while.
Annie,
ReplyDeleteI'm happy for you..I have been having decent days myself..and the book is on its way..when it finds you...do let me know...you would have questions....i'm sure...