The flutter sits, within your chest, See what it has to hide. Binged on your words like bourbon to get a glimpse in your world. Could say I saw it coming, but I need my eyes closed to concentrate. I like to break the law, What can I say I see a lock and key,. To attempt To surprise In the school corridor. That I held on to something. This hunger and thirst.
Seeking acceptance and dying for love. Yes I held on to something and anyone. For comfort in strangers dying for love.
We wasted time each on our own. You and I. On people who never cared about us. And we still do this sometimes. And now do you know do you know. What they were. Fleeting relationships from the start. To the end. But I hold on to something dying to bond. For someone to consider. A friend of my own. Yes I hold on to shadows and no one at all. A new face another name. People enter your life. And leave after a while.
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The unknown. And no one can tell you where you are. And you ask for directions. Met by cold reflections of the stars. That those who venture. But the suffocating structure of your days. As you packed each crate. And marked it and sent it. To be shipped away. And dreamed that someday. Like in the movies. A new life waiting for you there. At the edge of the world.
Been walking around in circles for a month. And you peek through the windows.
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At the people in the houses. Having second thoughts. As the world around you keeps on turning. Thinking over. Every opportunity you never took before.
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To see the edge of the world. I live in a train station. You shed your skin today. And leave your past behind. A new start a new place. A chance to redefine. But how long will you be staying. Will you settle for a while. And I think I know the type. A stray cat another and one single rock.
Stuck to the ground overgrown with moss. Still tomorrow. Will you hold me tight in your arms. Hold me until the night has gone. Yes hold me darling hold me close. And stay like this until morning comes. A temporary stop.
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For scholars and vagabonds. A city bursting with life. But then a ghost town. Each time that summer comes. Transient folk that you never get to know. A train station of size inhabited by. Two hundred thousand lives. So about tomorrow. A lifetime of worries. I worry about you sometimes. Will you handle a disaster. Like all the strong people do. If you see no joy in tomorrow.
Or a reason to start anew. When the sunlight hits your window.
All through the evening blues. Weakness is usually frowned upon.