|
all day the city's selling something
|
always, the busy people spinning 'round
|
busier
|
dizzier
|
'til they go back home to somewhere
|
|
and taxies stop to say "hello"
|
"want a ride? I'll take you there"
|
"to anywhere, just tell my driver"
|
|
the sun is casting shadows
|
an afternoon is fading
|
I ask, but no one knows
|
the answer to the question
|
my life is like an island
|
where does this ocean go?
|
|
shyly, a wino sips his wine
|
slowly, cause to him that is all that matters
|
he sees a cat he knows so well
|
now sleeping on a bench together
|
|
a woman waiting by herself, selling flowers
|
"please buy some, so I can help my daughter, will you?"
|
|
the man with spider eyebrows
|
is standing on a corner
|
"who wants to see a show?"
|
his head looks like a melon
|
he turns into an alley
|
then stops to blow his nose
|
sky is filled with neon
|
the buildings stand electric
|
and almost seem to glow
|
want answers to the question
|
my life is like an island
|
where does the ocean go?
|
I really want to know
|
my life is like an island
|
it's time for me now to fly
|
where does the ocean go?
|
|
|
|
-----------------
|
Where Does This Ocean Go?
|
| Ilaria Graziano |
