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Monday, 4 October 2010

Concrete-dwelling, weather-beaten flower in the middle of the road

I'm so sick of sleeping out in the cold
I blinded some guy over a space to sleep one night and he broke my nose
I've been walking for so long in circles now that my legs are bowed
But I'll keep walking 'cos I ain't got no place to go

I'm so sick of waking in a stranger's gaze
Full of pity on the streets of some city for which I wasn't made
Purporting to be all out of fortune for a stranger's small change
But I'll keep purporting 'cos I ain't got nothing else to say

A cardboard mattress on a cracked concrete bed
And these pains in my chest that I'm convinced are just stress
If I'd ever seen a doctor I'm sure he'd have said
"Get a job and get a girl, boy, this is all in your head"
But I can't help thinking that this curse worse than death
Was sucked in with the air when I drew my first breath
And no matter how much drink I pour down my neck
I can't lift this curse
Well, not yet

I'm the grave of a raincloud, I'm the death of a rose
That wilts into the garden it was borne from so another rose can grow
And the beauty is falling from my face now that I'm growing old
I'm the concrete-dwelling, weather-beaten flower in the middle of the road.

2 comments:

  1. Liz - you found Dan. Excellent. Dan is my good friend and semi-adopted son. Dan - Liz is my canadian friend, go see her blog. I think you might share an old country thing.
    Dan - the blog is looking great - I am properly impressed by how good the words look on the page.
    Philip

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