

The TrainWhere are you going? In your rusty 2 piece skirt suit and your Mary Jane’s Everything put together to project the myth of age Hands folded neatly waiting for your stop Asleep, the peaceful face betrays the make-up As do the bruised knees of the carefree Youth explodes, the desperate image destroyed By only a few small oversights Where are you going? With your neatly packed duffle bag and laptop Do you think about what you leave behind? Running from regrets The view from the window a mirrored life Flittering quickly past The train is the only thing that’s realThe Train


The RestaurantI wonder if maybe I'm crazy When I think about your death I've pictured it a hundred times Do I trust the panic thrust upon me With each horrific flash Is it a truth, an inevitable end Or just an unsubstantiated rumour Where is the truth Is it within me, or do I need search for it Do I trust it when I find it Or could it be a lie A fabrication from my soul Mean to protect Or inflict torment Does the spinning of the fan above me In the restaurant in which I sit Offer me any truth to my thoughts Or the place in which I exist Is myThe Restaurant


To ThinkTonight I heard the killers Creep among the shadows I lay there and listen Not afraid I welcome their presence In the moonlight As their essence falls across me I open my heart to the darkness And let it in Once there was no room amongst the light That danced and warmed the chambers But now the night finds a space In the emptiness No struggle No words Trop Penser Me Font Amours Only the wishes Of a deluded soulTo Think
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