There he is on the sidewalk again -
shadows dancing for inspiration
walks the streets on rusty cigarettes -
no longer caring what happens next
a crumpled paper held in his left hand -
another poem written in vain
he throws it to the ground with finality -
as he tries to run from reality
in a day or two he'll find a way -
to live another three or four days
but this tragic boy of reasoned romance -
has more to show then seen in a glance
a lost way can cause more than hopelessness -
in fact he's more likely dreading helplessness
if nothing goes his way soon -
then he swears his eyes won't see another moon
shedding his light apon others -
while hiding tears beneath the covers
a noble mind with a true cause -
but scattered with holes of doubt and flaws
honestly he's just alone -
he has even heard the phone ring for days on end
a tragedy is an understatement -
as you can see by the length of this lament
he's thinking again you can see it in his eyes -
creating a cancerous growth of smart prepared replies
the kind commonly seen in a movie scene -
stolen from his mind, no need to come clean
a sunset produces no ideas -
all his creations come from his fears
engaged in a world of eternal grace -
that only darkened death can fully erase
and the days go by
and he's out of excuses
hes realized now that
he's out of uses
and the time has come
to make that choice
to give in and listen
listen to that pessimist voice
and finish it all...
and with a crumpled paper held in his left hand (another poem written in vain!)
he walks the streets alone on rusty cigarettes (and he does...)
