It’s like the shadows are moving along, dodging spots of sunlight,
As the unyielding rays of the sun shout angrily down at the pavement.
It’s a windless day that has me cursing the afternoon; it’s that kind of Saturday.
People veil their faces behind thick clouds,
Polishing thoughts that have no place to go.
Even if they’re buried by a desolate city, they keep on… even now.
It’s all a bad dream from those dolls that stand lining your windows.
But even if you toss them in the back of your shed,
They’ll only be covered in dust, disappearing from sight;
Unreachable to anyone.
Even if our present,
Is filled with repetition,
Someday we’ll meet,
Think of those days, and continue on with our lives.
The vague signals given to us by the beat of the rain and the smell of sadness that fills the night:
The rain I swallow swims around in my lungs; a coelacanth diving deeper and deeper.
The vague signals given to us by the beat of the rain and the crying voice of an abandoned puppy:
They break through the hustle and bustle and find their way to me, saying, “Hey, somebody notice me!”
Even if our present,
Is filled with repetition,
Someday we’ll meet,
Think of those days, and continue on with our lives.
Even that trembling, stray dog on a street corner,
Getting hit by an evening downpour,
Will give off a shy smile,
Think of those days, and continue on.
Even if our present,
Is filled with repetition,
Someday we’ll meet,
Think of those days, and continue on with our lives.
We’ll keep on living.