In the back of the nostalgic bar
08/03 2020
In the back of the nostalgic bar
Through the veil of purple haze
She would wait as if in a trance
She would smile, of course
Talking about words in the wrong places
While the sirens going past outside
In shy moonlight ---
Are buried along the drained rain
What could she ever hope to gain?
Though most would admit it was romantic
Playful toying with disguised words
Sunsets, sunrise at bustling docks
Tobacco filled rooms ---
The doctor might fill the cup
In the bar as she entered
Through polemic words from a priest
That she threatened, as you normally do
I mean, what else was there to do?
At the corner of the busy street
Among the Greek gods by the mount
Among the homeless peddling flowers
Among the trash of yesterdays woes
She dances without a care in the world
The driver tries to come up with another name
But keeps on drinking from his cup
During the lighting of the lights
Would she realize her own reflection?
So in comes the wrong guy
At the wrong time by the road
Flows in his words, his ancient tattoos
That puts a curse on lost eyes
Looking in from the window
She stared at the pattern ---
At her own implied lifelessness
She that held it in her hands
And how long ti'll she regains it?
Her death might be romantic
If there was any hope for the rest of us
For everyone except King Lear
Or those without any confidence
Those drifting forlorn at midnight
Loneliness could be solved
Using some scientific machine
Kept in deep below our elbows
And how long ti'll we regain it?