Saturday, 15 May 2010
The Cloud Factory
Unending furrowed rows of soil.
Translucent whispers of cloud lay motionless in the turbulent atmosphere.
Soon to be burnt away, leaving no trace behind.
Wanderer
Give it up...
Standing on the side of the road,
not sure which way I’m going.
Up in the distance a car’s a showed
It speeds past, red lights a showin’.
How long do I stand here for?
My fate in the hands of strangers.
Time passes by, ten, fifteen, a score.
Should I be doing this, what about the dangers?
Chin up, smile on my face,
ready to embrace, the human race.
It creeps by at a petty pace,
when your thumbs pointed up to space.
Rain beats down on asphalt
I’m soaked to the skin.
I feel done, feel like giving in.
‘Is it the parents fault?’
Despondent, done-in, dreadful, dead.
Life could be worse, it’s often said.
Hey life could be worse,
riding to that hole in a hearse.
I’m travel tired, homesick and weary
my thumb points up to the sky.
Dark clouds appear,
It’s raining, shitty dreary.
Maybe next time I’ll take the rails.
But for now on, I’ll keep telling my Tarmac Tales.