Holiday In The Form Of A Metal Can
07/22 2021
Whispers in the closed room,
No one wants to be the first
Admitting that they are afraid
Gray hair, black hair ---
Blue eyes, black eyes ---
And those that only have red
In their visions,
It is the color of the ultimate ecstasy
Of blood, beauty & strawberries
But nobody dares say that much
Down here in our shared metal cell.
I was born to follow this track,
To simply go along those
That I admire,
Fear, love and those
Who's faces I've never seen
One too many times.
I put a cigarette behind my ear,
I try to jump over the sea of faces for a light, for a name
I'd rather not have witnessed all of this
For nothing, you know.
Can I expect that much? That much is left to tell
There would be memories of that day,
Of attempts to stay on the track
To finally escape the shadow
The hope is strong, perhaps too much so.
To want it is to grasp it,
To let it go is sunshine's revenge
On my fair skin
Damn, I could use a holiday.