London woke me up
|
From a comfortable sleep
|
With the screech of a tire
|
And a monotonous beep
|
I pulled back on the blinds
|
And took a one-eyed peak outside
|
|
The sun was catching a ride
|
On an innocuous cloud
|
Out on the morning streets
|
The Friday late-night crowd
|
Heading home from a night
|
Of tasteless jokes and alcohol
|
|
I am aware that I haven't been here for long
|
I am aware that I haven't been here for long
|
I don't feel the need to call you up
|
I'm good
|
|
I decided to walk
|
In the direction of north
|
Where I saw two kites there
|
Dancing back and forth
|
Never knowing where next
|
They would blow off to or how long they'd fly
|
|
And after hitting the park
|
I continued on
|
To a bank where
|
The machine said I was overdrawn
|
By a hundred or two
|
Doesn't worry me like it used to
|
|
I am aware that I haven't been here for long
|
I am aware that I haven't been here for long
|
I don't feel the need to call you up
|
Wouldn't want to go and interrupt
|
I don't feel the need to call you up
|
I'm good
|
|
I am aware that I haven't been here for long
|
But this moment is rare, I want it stay so long
|
I don't feel the need to call you up
|
Wouldn't want to go and interrupt
|
I don't feel the need to call you up
|
I'm good
|
|
-----------------
|
Morning Streets
|
| Ari Hest |
