There's a graceful dance above me.
|
From the sun reflecting in.
|
Off the cars that pass below.
|
Each with their own story within.
|
And the dance moves
|
They remind me of the times that I've walked in
|
To a room and left with nothing
|
Except the fear to walk back in.
|
So I'll stay safe at my vantage.
|
On occasion I'll peer in.
|
You'll grow up out of the corner of my eyes
|
Right next to him.
|
You'll need help, you'll need attention.
|
You're a captivate whim.
|
But I'm a coward prone to quitting.
|
I just make sure never to begin.
|
|
the gunpowder between my teeth
|
Lets me know that I've come clean
|
It should be easy to say goodbye
|
Since you won't be looking at me.
|
|
I can see you through a window
|
But the cracks keep you a blur.
|
There's a victim in this story
|
I wish to god that is was her.
|
While I know I've your recognition
|
It's of its nature I'm not sure.
|
If I could ever push this question
|
I'd shut my ears for the answer.
|
|
-----------------
|
Gunpowder: A Ballet
|
| Drmanhattan |